rot

How ugly it must be
for them to smell
the death on your cheek
snuggled close to theirs
how disgusting to feel
your dissipated flesh
pressed close to firm
how awful for their tender hands
to touch your shriveled parts
to see you wrinkled up
against their smooth

deluded old man
you mistake their youth
as your own
they are not your mirror

time's stench encroaches rapidly

they can taste it in your kiss