© Copyright 2026 - Peter PHIR! Tuesday, seven-something, light still thin, I saw your mouth before I took you in, Hands in my pockets, keeping them there, While you leaned across me reaching for the chair. You said something small. I missed half of it. Watched your fingers settle round the glass. Looked away. Looked back. Long enough to know I should’ve let the moment pass. Nothing happened. That’s the trouble. Nothing had to. So I said: no. Clear. Deliberate. Not your body. Not your skin. Not the little space between your neck and shoulder My mind keeps wandering in. No is just a door. Walked through it. Found you undressed on the other side. I don’t lust for you, Lust for you, Every no still leaves me wanting what I cannot do. I take it back, Take it back, But taking back your body Puts your body right back. “F inverse, back to F. (f⁻¹ = f) I shut my eyes to lose your shape. It burned. Saw you again Thursday, half past nine, somebody else’s hand resting close to mine. You turned and smiled. Nothing more. I felt my whole body answer Before I knew what for. I went cold water. Went to work. Took the long way home and left my phone downstairs. Still saw your shoulders. Still felt the distance. Still imagined my hands Where they have no business being there. You never came. Never touched me. Never promised anything. Still you slept beside me Without ever entering the room. I don’t lust for you, Lust for you, Every no still leaves me wanting what I cannot do. I take it back, Take it back, But taking back your body Puts your body right back. “F inverse, back to F.. (f⁻¹ = f) I shut my eyes to lose your shape. It burned. Hear me: I catalogued every boundary. Counted them. Learned the rules. Named your mouth a mouth, Your hips just hips, Your perfume molecules. Mouth. Still yours. Skin. Still warm. Distance, Distance needs two bodies to exist. Suppression is its own bed. You furnish it with what you won’t touch. I built four walls of not you then wanted you inside them twice as much. I slept in not you. Dreamed in not you. Woke with not you pressed against my chest. Not you on my tongue. Not you under my hands. Not you everywhere I wouldn’t let you be. Which is a form of you. Which is, I never kissed you. That’s the strange part. Never had you. Never lost you. Still, I’ve spent the whole night Trying to give you back. I don’t lust for you, lust for you, Every no still leaves me wanting what I cannot do. I take it back, take it back, but taking back your body puts your body right back. “F inverse, back to F. (f⁻¹ = f) I shut my eyes to lose your shape, You re - turn. © Copyright 2026 - Peter PHIR!
