Albuquerque

My body once wet with oils and sweat,
now dry as the bones within it;
my skin now itches with blisters and rash;
dusty eyes, caliced lips.
Love once poured as a fountain does,
poured and overflowed.
The well run dry as the climate around;
dry from desert and wind.
Forgiveness once sprang forth from my heart;
once lept with joyfull embrace;
now lays idle, a coward, deep away,
refusing to show his face.
The man who was has gone away quick.
I never saw him take his leave,
but he's now far gone and all that's left
is an arid skeleton of me.