guttural groans seep
releasing themselves from me
I ******* ache for you!

The missing returns a thousand times faster than it leaves
Grabbing nothing but air and fantasy.
We used to paint the skies in colours you and I
Now the strokes are of no substance
Tracings of heat dissipating like my hope to catch our meaning
It's a guttural instinct,
a fidelity that knows no carnality only the faintest hope of it.

Another groan escapes me.
Oh **** I miss you,
like the desserts miss the rain!
I ******* need you!
Worse than the Poet needs the pain.