I buy clothes that in summer and winter
match his scarf, the colourful one

out of which not can be
washed my memories

I've hit him
because he started to look like me

demanded that I only wanted him
in our triangle

of attention touch and love
we've met over it

point by point in bed
every nerve cell in my skin

addressed tickled kissed
let glow of eternity

and yet the cold has come
without a cover over my wounds

so I keep stirring up the embers
of the fire that is burning in me