I unloved you for years.
We became friends in a dream - in your dream.
My actual life, awake or sleeping,
loved the way we plundered the flesh
of a hundred shared passions, the way we exchanged erotica
like unisex garments.
I am honeycombed, riddled by all those unloved times,
yet I love them, and you now. We were ghosts
in blind eyes, obsessed with crippling raptures.
Love was a promenade roadkill, now its specter binds me
to old love songs never sung.