It's been...6 months.
Since I've been enveloped in any embrace.
I kiss my mother
every morning of every day
on her right temple.
It's a ritual I started at 13.
That's 1,318 days, today.
And starting then, a shift arose.
I've never been overly affectionate,
but as I get older,
the more skin aches from no touch.
Loneliness beating me down
like the sun stifling withering petals,
their descent nearly as gorgeous
as when it flourished.
Malnourished, I lie down on this bed,
as the only thing being fed is the lead
in my eyelids.
Leading me to the only thing here
that has consistently be there.
And its slumber.
But she doesn't like answering calls
when there's light out.