I miss the sound of your voice , close to my ear
verbal poetic *******, whose timbre
like pen stokes ink into my skin

I miss the feel of your lips, to taste your soul
when we kiss and worship before your tongue
leaving praise upon your lips

I miss your scent on our pillows
like a memory on which I drift
to lull me back to peaceful sleep

And the heat of the space where you slept,
in which i curl like a cat on a window sill
lazy, content.