I've spent a
night with you,
a night where
hours fled at
cryptic speeds
and the earth
stopped turning
on its axis
because of the
***.

But lately
my hands spend
their nights
waving you back
into existence;
lately I've been
cracked open by
the fingeres you
used to trace my
***.

Lately,
all the nights
become one and
I scream whispers
of your name;
Lately you have
been in my throat,
again, and I cannot
swallow.