My desire has been slowly extinguished,
a fire put out by snow,
a part of me naturally relinquished
in a long season of letting go
of things outgrown, no longer wanted
or needed as if proof or food,
a thing vanquished, once vaunted,
the passing at last of a lifelong mood.
Nothing turns my head anymore,
lust having died a long slow death,
the picture of a state of before
replaced by after upon last breath.
Anyway, only to say, I've changed
like a leopard, its spots removed
by molecules gradually rearranged,
another fact of life disproved.