sometimes the need for contact spills over me
as cold cream blurs into steaming coffee
or fingernails dissolve along the back of necks
but nothing cures when all the skin playing
on all the screens or even late-night chats that keep
you awake just to see your phone light up once more
can’t cover longing can’t cover what light reveals
when in mourning and your bed is only half-full
it’s the weight of sex but it’s more than sex
it’s lingering words but it’s more than words
and I know how kiss and release can become
a physical placebo how all you want is the skin
of someone who can strip you naked
with intimate questions just for you
and their absence will rest as heavy as bruises
that linger like the thrum of laundromats
when you’re already tired
from the language of machines
An MFA graduate from Oklahoma State University, Wyeth Leslie (he/him) is a poet and author interested in pop culture, technology, and beauty in the mundane. His writings have been featured in publications such as The Vital Sparks, Lost Futures, The Daily Drunk, and Haywire Magazine. He can be found staring into the abyss on Twitter: @Wyeth_was_here