This inhuman need
for people washed away
by words and vanity.

Threads worn thin
against the curve of continents
and breadth of borders.

That which I expect; notions of intimacy
torn apart by surprised thoughts,
beyond my control, beyond your sentiment.

Slowly, a sweeping emptiness,
black like the kohl in her eyes,
begins to settle in the space
left vacant by a departed love and longing.