i can't stand it when
you call me a friend
don't you see, you should be
thinking of me differently

The bed is empty again.
Warmth settles in the void
now reclaimed
by neatly tucked sheet corners
and a fading memory in the mattress.
A wayward dream of soft snores
begging to come true

One pillow
recovering from a restless night,
the other
frozen like marble.
Too foreign to be disturbed.
Too real to be dismissed.
Too distant to be admired

I remember
sometimes

her voice would quiver

like paper lanterns
dancing in some
foreign nighttime glow

I fancy
sometimes

I knew that sweet tremble

at a tea ceremony table
beneath Chinese skies
many years before

it first caressed my ear

Let me take you from the light
                     To present you darkness
This figure of fiery pain
                     As her slender fingers trace your imperfections As her eyes beg you to speak
                     As her lips descend upon yours
Stopping ever so slightly
                      Lingering about
Her breath
                     Waves of joy
Her delicate body
                     Wrapped around you
squeezing you
                     Accepting you.