Not So Déjà Entendue

Dismembered.

You are the lips I kiss goodnight, 

the eyes that, with ease, pierce mine

the fingertips that often pry

the mouth that spews hurt

the charm with which you flirt

the eyelashes that flutter with your words

the hands that wave goodbye
the sentence I've heard a thousand times

the limp that impedes the crutch
the naïvety with which you strut

the crevice I like to f**k

the well I fill with love 
hoping that one day I'd feel something.