The lonely bed is broken
toss and turn, fold the pillow
to crush against my chest,
love letter bookmark
reminding where I was,
the sleepwalk tv painting
blue bias oases on the ceiling,
your flavor haunting my lips.
There is no sleep only
your overwhelming absence and
its presence in my every sense
the warm salt of your bared throat,
the ink upon your arm
your hips deft with ache and intent
the rapturous, trembling surprise of
your incomparable kiss
gone so long, still
strewn all over this wreck and
the room, the book stack altar,
the wished out star of your love.
This lonely bed bereft,
my lecherous heart,
your effortless ghost.
