cobalt

In moments of weakness
your nipples edge me into an
uncertain and shaky funk.

Not as a whole; representing certain fragments,
not the image of the nipples, not the nipples, but
the ghost of the nipples,

yes, in weak moments
before a dream,
or when I am washing my hands,
or brushing my teeth, or
masturbating, in
moments of hamburger reverie,
the ghost of your thin figure diving between
trees and cafeteria tables.

Yes, in weak moments
prone to sarcastic, sardonic, decadent smiles,
seeking an anorexic ghost figure not in space/ a figure in theory.