Unmade by your hands; awaiting there
Those softest hurts and menaces.
I know not what delight this is:
Not a life, and less a love affair.
Distraught in touch; you hold me close
As dreams are held, until you wake.
I know not how you can unmake
A man of me, in man’s own throes:
I felt the weight; and when you rose
Away – such sorrow no man knows.