Our bodies lay,
   shivering and intertwined,
under the clear night's stars,
   under the watch of your blackened
window
but he is not you
     (whoever you are)
and so the way he warms me
  is nothing
     nothing compared to the chill I feel
radiating from the emptiness of your
bedroom window,
          where I long to be.

                                                      *-j.s.