You are lonely.
I lay in my box, lifeless
   collecting dust.

What is air
          when I breathe uselessness
What is sentience
          when I am naïve
                    you cradle me close
                    a heartbeat encompasses my hollowness
                             I am alive again.

You sigh into my unobstructed ear
        she loves me not right now
               and my jaw slackens in silent exclamation
               as your hands, warm and sensual
               stroke my back
                   until I am made wet from the sweat upon your palms
                   until I cry out what your passions require
                            with your sultry tone echoing in the darkness
        the show has reached its end.
              
I fall limp in your hands
                 my eyes roll into the back of my head.

You wash off the guilt, up to your elbows
        and place me in my box
               I become comatose
               telling secrets to its desolate corners
        like how you need me not
               when she loves you again
                if only for a little while.

But again, oh
       you are lonely.
I turn to ashes.

          You choke on the cinders.