When You Are Gone

 
Had I not seen
the form of you
lying still
inside the indention
of your sleeplessness,

your pillow
left with its head unplaced,
and laid full stretched
upon the mattress
where you
had once rested,

and read the words
that you had fashioned
on the note
you left
when leaving
for the weekend,

I would not now
be blurry-eyed
and self-indulgently
thinking of
your staple hair
and naked nape,
the rounded dance
of each curved surface,
that undulating
circumnavigation
of the orficing delight.

I think of you
and how
when next we meet
I shall encapsulate
the missing evenings
of our being
with a wholly
more than solitude
entrancing grace
to be inside
the blessing
of your dear embrace,

and so, until,
I think of you
and here take charge
electric memories
of being
in your arms
and lips that carve
the center
of my being.  

I think of you,
and give you
all I have.

runningturtle87