Tattooed onto my soul. I could never forget your poetry.
You sung your lyrics soft. They screamed into me.
Been too long now. Your voice a whisper inside my head.
I desire your words. I need their warmth again.

Always able to make me think. Your poems made simple men sink.
Even I, would always drift. Begin to question myself.
How far have I floated off? How have I let you become so far gone?
It once was lust we acted upon. Thou we were not the shallow type.
Our words made love. Now they call each other on drunk nights.

Our hands may have never met. Our pens formed our breath.
Ink working as our tongues. Poetry our inner language.
I have read scriptures. Not as passionate.
I have seen monuments. Not as magnificent.
I desire your words. I need their presence again.