This Song

My youth in ribbons

Coloured and clean,

You pull, in fragments,

From a box. 
 

The bits, in torment,

Myriad, unseen:

Textured, in layers

Felt, on flesh. 

My youth, it whispers

It howls, it calls. 

Sliding, sinking, settle--

Sweet, on buds. 
 

Falseness, fermenting,

Saved, on repeat. 

Realness, intimate,

I recall. 
 

Or are these ribbons 

Material. 

If I could unsee 

I'd still see;

I love, distorted,

Distance between.

My youth, your youth 

Coloured, and clean.