Sipping The Watching

I always feel his presence..even now as I lay in the echoing silence that is my resting place.
I feel his voice piercing the drums of my arousal with growls of longing even as I lay in the shadowed state of my empty bedroom.
I know he watches from his corner sipping the coffee we brewed strong, hot and bitter under the dull light of his desk lamp annoyingly flickering and the intermittent hum of a barely functional air conditioning wiping sweat from his brow even now while my body shivers in and pulls for something...somebody that should be, but isn't there.
I taste the sweet vanilla of his words lingering on my tongue and the sheets fighting for air even now as I lay bare in the still...
He watches, I know, I think of him often...always even as I sit in the old cafe...sipping the bittersweet across from his empty chair.