Souvenir

Tadzio, we are at odds even now
across the dim room,
the linen dunes of this disheveled bed,
the white sand undulating,
before I know your name.

Wordless,
you were the pure perfume of beauty,
an intoxicant infused with the petals
of your eyes.  You were youth
calling...

What could I take away
from you that would not fade?
Your perfection,
an illusion made of my regrets,
is a mirror of memory.

It is not real.

If you kiss me, I worry,
you will disappear.  If,
in my arrogance,
I dare to touch you,
you will evaporate... faster
than the opalescent stain
you leave
upon these sheets.