Driving me away
is easier
than saying
goodbye-
kissing the air,
the last syllable
of truth
being always
two lips compressed
around
emptiness-
the emptiness
you dread
yet return to
as just punishment,
just reward.
Who
loved you
so relentlessly?
Who lost you
in that howling void
between infancy
and d**h?
It is punctuated
by the warm bodies
of women,
who hold you for a while
then run
down that echoing corridor
doing
as they are told.