Amputated Parts by John Tustin

I used to love the cold nights,
The nights so cold outside that
I could feel it in my nice warm house.
When she was here we’d get under the covers
And we’d talk,
Her body up against mine emanating heat.
I’d fall asleep after she did and I’d sleep through the night.
Tonight is a night so cold that I can feel it in here,
In this nice warm room
Where I am under the covers alone,
Almost feeling the heat of her flesh
But not quite
And not really.
It’s a phantom feeling, like the memory of an amputation.
I itch where my amputated parts used to be
And remain unsatisfied as there is nothing to scratch.
I used to love the cold nights
When she and I would get under the covers
In a nice warm house,
Our bodies so close as we talked softy.
She used to hold me
I used to hold her
We used to hold each other.
We used to hold each other
And talk and then we’d sleep through the night.
I don’t love the cold nights the way I used to.
Photo by Kaique Rocha on

About the Poet:

John Tustin has not forgiven her or forgotten her. contains links to his published poetry online.

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