. . . before I fall asleep

I yearn to explore my inner darkness
with lust and feel your breath close
to my skin

your fingers warmth

A shiver

I mourn the absence of your touch
I long to be touched by a whisper

from your lips!

What a vicious circle . . .

I need not!
I yearn not!
I long not!
I mourn not . . .

Nothing nothing nothing
A point of reference has
my emptiness become A
upside down question mark

Because there are no questions
anymore Only answers . . .