coffee permeates a room
in a peculiar way
like rain through an open
window in the winter

the sound of your heels
hitting the floor rings
like my brain pounds away
at the walls of my skull

my stomach hurts and
the phantom of you
is easing the pain,
I feel a tender hand
upon my skin
but it isn't enough

it's not that feeling
of my lips on yours

it's not the circumference
of the pleasure principle
found with the arms
around the waist

I long with greed and
beg with need and I
am a sitting duck to
the sort of woman
who looks and acts
a lot like you do now

I don't think you realize
just what you have done