for hours at night
i keep myself company
i write, i think, i listen
i crave parts of old lovers
put them together into a dream one
i miss one's respect
another's vibe
regret a whole one
except physical touch
one's laugh
another's moan
the way different hands
felt around my waist
and lips to mine
i go over old instances
only the two of us had
deep intimate moments of the past
and how for a minuet span
in man's notion of time
we were only for each other
until money, reputation, other women
(abridged version of list)
were their "reasons"
their excuses
then i cry
and the night is over
so i go to sleep