Nostalgia is a bitter-sweet pill,
I taste it as the wind tickles
My bare shoulders, just like
His breath used to,
I drink it when I remember
The dizzy euphoria of devouring
His wine-kissed lips,
Oh what I wouldn't give
To have him tiptoe back into
My existence and grab me by my waist,
Erase the bitterness and replace it
With the sweetness of himself.
Oh what I wouldn't give
To have him fill in the blanks
He's left in my poetry,
Replenish the drought, the paucity
Of his most sacred gift to me,
Words
If he'd return,
My words would too.