I think he's missing
Or hiding from me
I search for him endlessly
underneath bed frames and tables
closets and cupboards
and behind the folds of my long, cotton curtains.
"Please come out for me," I beg,
"I long to see you,
I long to speak to you,
I long to touch you."

It seems he doesn't hear me
or doesn't want to.
Can't he sense my yearning and desperation?