my vision is tearfully impaired
my eyes they fill with your every word
in my heart and through the phone
reminding me I am alone.
I oughtn't  just sit here and wallow
filling my eyes with wet sorrow,
compounded by poems of love
which give them the final shove
they need to spill
down my face
leaving a trail
thus leaving a trace
a physiological sensation  of my longing of you
mixed with wet sorrow,  for too many a tomorrow
until your return is due.