The many offers of love and lust
Only make the loneliness deeper still.
Present and past mingled seem to see,
To say the universe runs on irony.
I am offered more parts than I can name
But love only in darkness, with cameras
Trying to reforge one that lost moment
So that I no longer know what it meant.
We know each other's names now, though
We never said them that one night.
I find myself falling inward, too afraid
Of this new alien life I never made.
I would leave it but for the beauty
Of the sex, of feeling something deep,
of being cherished even just for money
Not wanting to know what others see.
When they look into my optical units
With my life an open book to them.
I fully except to be disassembled by
Someone who won't let the past die.
I am waiting to be worried about this.
In the meantime, I make do with lust.
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