What of me when newness fades?
When you have since abandoned longing for my lips.
The shape of my disposition no longer quenching your desires.
What of me when time and toil have stolen my days?
When these arms lose the worth of their breadth.
Ravaged by ailments and grief of this life.
What of me when frailty has taken over?
A once healthy body lay next to yours.
Edges of my skin rough beneath your finger tips.
What of me?
-Clary
Sarcastically Cynical 