Man without a face

What is it
that I see in you
although I normally
don’t look much at strangers?

Why is it
that I – after so many months -
still fail to remember your face
while trying to recall it?

Why is it
that the only particulars
I bring to mind
are your body, your touch and your scent?

Why is it
that your physical presence
ensheathes my skin
sticks and stings
like needles and pins
though sometimes lulles me
like softly landing butterflies?

Why is it
that you, although emotionally still a stranger,
physically know me inside out
albeit our hearts aren‘t in?

Is it because
my heartfelt wish
to never let you under my skin
to never let you touch my soul
and to never let you more
than look through me
blurres my vision?

I know why
I  better pray
to never remember your face