The Cave

This dark caves in which I lay. For the eyes of dark were his. And the stones that made my bed were his. For the dirt, and the heat, For the sand, and the wind All grazed on the walls And sounded like he once did. I seemed to have lost him. This lover of mine. He hid in the cave, For years, for hours, for days. All I wanted was his skin, That rough, ridged, rock of his. The cold, metal heart of his. Yet, I always forget. He only lives in my mind.