you must have left me. where before there was you in abundance, in fullness. a mere touch, a smoldering look will stir you up. and i am up aflame, looking for a body to quench the thirst.
where there is dearth of enthusiastic partners and mates, i easily turn to visions and images. and satiate my self. pleasure enjoyed solitaire.
but lately, i have not felt you. the places that arouse you seem to have turned cold. even the thought of self touching self seems a chore. is it winter yet?