With the disperity in our ages
the way he holds the pen and plays with it in his fingers
the exquisite movements of his muscle and demuring facial expression...
And yet,
I long for his touch, with his
fine, beautiful and slim fingers,
which slighly burn my smooth
and silky skin that has somehow been
lightened and brightened even more.
Mon desiré,
thy youthful powerful arms that may in many ways
enwrap and arouse the dead texture in my body
underneath this aging covering of mine.