Spoiled with having you
Within my reach,
I keep nearly catching
The dark figure
Of your ghost in the corner of
My eye.

Seeing myself in the mirror,
You are shower-naked
Before me,
Looking back from glass; inviting.

Don't be sweet. Not gentle.
My bones were built for battle.

Empty air where warmth
Was days ago; now
A vacuum the size and shape
Of love and lust responded to.

I lean my face on sofa roughness
Where black silk strands
Of hair would tickle it.
Your fingers are not here to
Search; find, utilize the Access
All Areas pass of

The black ceramic ring
You wear.
Neither is your mouth to tell me

To shut the hell up and
Lean back into the
Winter night that blushes
And turns away smiling.

Hours like aeons.
Decade seconds.
Yearning is not boring,
Yet your absence is the opposite
Of fun.
All I have are memories, and
Tomorrow.

Thank the gods I have tomorrow.
Thank the gods, we have
Tomorrow.

I'll dream then too.
Then open my eyes and mouth,
And thank out loud.

*"Real."