by Rob Pierce
I knew her before the scars. I still see her unscarred, although I see her scarred as well. I see a montage of her faces past and present. She aches where limbs were severed, and I feel arms that no longer exist wrapped around me tight. She cannot let go of me even though she can no longer hold me.
I lust for parts of her that are no longer there, and she can feel my touch although she has no way of feeling it. I bury myself in her and I am alive; without her I would feel buried alive.
We know about nerve endings but these nerves do not end. We touch what is absent, we hold with our memories, we live in an impossible past because what is real is an unbearable future.