Day and night again
I see, and hear, and feel
even in my pen
I know that you are real.

My heart writes, not my hand
its beating paints the sheets
and warmth begins to spread
when both of our hands meet.

Your skin, fragile and soft
my skin, thickened and rough
the times they gently touch
I never get enough.

Night and day again
I see, and hear, and feel
the softness of your voice
the eyes that keep me sealed.