What is missing you beside the specks of yellow spread across the couch from morning light through barely open blinds?
What is tasting you beside the feel of cold hands on your sweaty skin to sooth your mind?
Lover, what is craving you beside the smell of musky night beginning to surround as everything you touch turns into mud from leaves crushed in the dirt?
Lover, what is smelling you beside the silence falling through the river as it moans of hearts that have been hurt?