nothing left

if i'd met you earlier,
before the flint erased the flesh
i'd bloom, like how you called me
before.
and i don't have a soul to give,
although i long to know yours.

my hair is longer now;
it's reddish strands curling around
my naked earlobes.
roughly-hewn
and dark at the roots.
but you let the warmth of your body
keep me in the sun...
at night, i'm so cold.
where are you then?