The cold hands I used to know are gone
And the tingling uncomfort I used to savor
Was lost a long time ago
All the innocence of inexperience and discovery
Has flattened out into stale familiarity
Sometimes, when I remember the beauty of newness
The face then unmarred by bitterness and instability
I sink into the pool of blissful sighs and choke myself to death
Knowing that, sometimes, strangeness can never be recaptured