HEY! where did you come from?

    
   
   
while drinking coffee, or    
reading a book,    
I feel his hand resting    
upon my  
shoulder.    
   
I look back and no one is    
there.    
   
when walking down the    
street,    
I see his shadow    
following me.    
   
I turn around, but nobody    
is present.    
   
I taste him in bites of my    
food and sips of wine.    
   
I sense him in the words    
I write,    
and see him in the eyes    
of others.    
   
in bed at night,    
I think about how I  
would chase    
the tigers of passion,    
   
all those beautifully
imperfect women
and men who  
welcomed me to
enter the sacred
temple's of their    
bodies, hearts
and souls,    
   
and afterwards,    
lying together,    
the twilight falling    
around us like manna,    
   
soft, gentle giggling at    
little secrets shared    
between small kisses    
of afterplay,    
   
whispering silly pet    
names like song birds    
singing from tree to    
tree.    
   
now I lie here,    
feeling the weight of    
his arm dangling over    
my back in some    
spectral hug,    
   
I roll over,    
but no one is    
there...    
   
not yet,    
anyway,    
   
but soon    
enough,    
   
soon    
enough.