We were lavish with our tongues and fingers
when we feasted, but we never tasted love.
I'll admit sometimes I miss the hunger
for another bite of flesh, the constellation
of scattered bruises, the burning
of a hundred angry stars
falling across my body in the darkness
beneath your white belly moon
before our sea waves turned tsunami,
drowning us in spray
All that energy to create such passion,
but we never tasted love;
we were just lucky in that way.
It made Goodbye easier to say