I can't sleep.
My mind thunders and lightnings
At the thought of you not near me;
There's an ache in my heart.
You scent still lingers on my skin
As do your phantom touches
But that's not enough to satiate this
Yearning within, yes,
And I hate the idea of being apart.
You're sleep and I'm wide awake
Tonight and I can't stand the weight
Of this wait so I stare at the stars
Blissfully wanting to be with you.
No, so long as you're not near me
I can't sleep.

When we last parted
Your lips were warm
And sweet with longing.
And now I lay in bed, over
Filled with intense wanting
For your sweetness.
And every passing second
I miss you more.

Conquered man that I am
I give the tribute of
A thousand affectations and
Adorn your beautiful with fluos
And befitting ardent adorations.
And conquered man that I am
I give the nightly accolade
Of one thousand plus kisses
And touches.
And finally to my champion
The tribute of love ever endless.

Are you a poet?
Do you lay awake staring
At the ceiling in nights darkness?
Do you write poetry?
Does your rushing mind rest
While you're writing?
These are the questions I ask me
When I aught to be sleeping
And instead listen to music
And ponder my dearest
And other life sweets

I miss your touch.
The second it's gone
I, for the tingling sensation
On my skin against yours, long;
Like the budding flower for the sun,
And the dry earth for the rain.
Is it wrong that I want you again,
And again?
That I want you ad infinitum?

How could I ever whisper sweet nothings?
No, my words are akin to Robert Brownings
Words to his dearest, the eloquent Elizabeth Barret.
I could never compliment you without depth and passion
put into my words that is barely suppressed within
me.
.
.
How could I not admire so completely?
No, my adoration, limited by physics, could never be truly
expressed thoroughly though I try. My soul cries to be free,
To join into one with your own.
How could I not long
For thee?
.
.
How could I without you be?