Missing most the tender moments The moments your hand slides to my knee and squeezes just enough to let me know that even when your eyes are focused on the future on the road we are traveling down together you are glad I am by your side.
My mind is locked in the moments where our souls spark and bounce between our eyes. Just the slow moments where time moves like molasses and we can swim in the static created by the meeting of lips.
The golden light between our bodies splashes across home walls as we move apart before slamming home together.  
Safe in the cave of sheets, the sound muffled by the secret moments we create.
Laughter ripples from the top of my body to the bottom stopping to vibrate as if you pour happiness straight into me. Cleaning our hands by rubbing them together under the never-ending spout of love we have built here in the ancient remains of all the others who have done the same.

I can't shake the feeling that you are gone.
Pacing through the kitchen hoping that I'm wrong.
Keep on thinking that last night you said goodbye
and the anger keeps on throbbing with the loud ringing demand of, why?
Used to being alone but somehow this feels new.
These four walls seem to have changed overnight like they have released the scent of you. Back to being mine and mine alone a palace built for one.
Not what I want. Not what I need. Just where I am.
Tears drip through the phone flowing through oceans begging for guidance. Please tell me what to do and the familiar advice slips easy through. Take a piece of your heart, bury it deep, lock it away, keep it just for you.
Don't let anyone close enough to touch the beating pulsing essence you must keep to survive. Build walls, strengthen defenses, build bars with smiles.
Not what I want. Not what I need. Just where I am.
Keep on thinking last night you said goodbye.
Can't shake the feeling that you are gone.
Twisting my aching gut in sheets slick with saddened salt, hoping that I'm wrong.

Everything here is yellow.
Lemons play hide and seek in the twisted winding streets.
And the mind becomes slow, like liquid mellow.
My feet on ancient cobblestone tapping out new beats.
While my tongue swims through the limoncello.

Everything here is old.
The sand is black a small reminder of an ancient doom.
My dear friend yesterday reminding me to be bold.
To seek out answers from those who lie quiet in an volcanic tomb.

Everything here is sweet.
My lips a constant rosy red from the blood of wine.
One cannot help but be drawn into the mother natures ****.
Drinking in a new sensuality, delicious in every curve and line.

Italy gives the world warmth and time.
A lovely old woman bearing the lines of love.
To never visit her dusky shores must surely be a cosmic crime.
For this land has been given all things good from above.

Utterly petrified,
toes dangling precipitously over the bluff.
Transfixed on the swirling pain below mighty in its ancient tide.
Entranced by the dazzling facets twinkling from my diamond in the rough.
But I can still feel the salt trails from the last time I cried.
I can feel them linger tender on my breast.
And I look at you with with such cosmic wonder, truly starry eyed.
I want to be your home not the ever present guest.

How I wish I could trust you.
Give myself to you with strength and poise.
I wish I could find a loving pattern in the things you do.
Desperately I try and find my level voice clandestine in the noise.
Hiding the fear in spaces you have yet to see through.

I yearn for you with something deeper even than lust.
I wish you could see the beautiful despair you instill.
Every inch of me begs to keep you here  between every ******.
Then your departure wakes me from my transcendent stupor, sharp and shrill.
Maybe one day you will walk my inner sanctum, with enough time and a little more trust.

I miss you.
I miss the way your eyes shone when they set on ancient stone.
I miss the cadence of your dusky voice when it spoke to those no one else could see.
I miss the glee that drove you deeper to the past.
I miss all the love you once had to give.
I miss you, my tender wild adventurer.
I love you my vicious beastie.
I wish I could find you once more.
Sit and talk for awhile of all of the things that were felt, of all of the things that were said. Of all of the beautiful traumas and the wonderful scars.
You were beautiful in your poetic misery. In your deep blue aloneness. You were a vision on the shores of the Loch. I wonder now and again where you are. Are you wandering round this globe or are you quite trapped, as I suspect you are. Because sometimes I see you beating on the brown bars of your cell, when I look in the mirror.