It's 1:15
you could be asleep
so I don't want to call-
and wake you

or maybe you're lying on your side,
restless.
imagining the quiet form of your
other part
while I sit in state
and do the same

our fingers waving over
the sides of our separate beds to grasp for
the phantom warmth from a month past-

one puzzle piece in the north
another in the City.
there are holes in our existences
that we  can't seem to fill
without both our shadows pressed together

I see our future-
the promise of colours,
jokes, clasped hands
and ***** dishes
So full and ready to be picked ripe
off the tree

but on the other side of the glass
the window's not yet
primed to be broken
Impatiently you hammer
perturbed, I tap.

'Please', I pray.
let them make spider cracks
so I can just
reach you
halt this nonsense,

and be with my Love
again.