I miss you,
I hope for you
someday to return embraced in my
arms of chicken wire,
brittle in this cool breeze blowing across
cracked earth that surrounds me, grey,
the only precipitant;
drops of suspiration from my eyes.

My world skips to slow motion
as I observe with the eyes
of a million unwoken promises,

and it hits the ground,

each drop splattering like a cloud devoured in a
pool of flies.
My body yearns, it aches for you
like a honey suckle longs to be
plucked,
torn in half
licked clean
by the tongue,
moist with desire,
that makes it home in the preoccupied body that will soon discard it,
barely noticed by the taste buds; it moves on to consume another.

Hope leaves me
as I realize
I miss you, but I don’t know who you are…