I miss you the way
          that the sea, who tries
          so hard to stay, misses
          the shore, even though she knows
          it's impossible and even though
          she knows they will meet again
          soon, she tries to rage against
          the tyranny of the moon.
And some days I
          miss you the way the moon
          inevitably pines for the sun. Although
          they will never meet, she waits until
          the sun's warm rays will touch
          her face and she can pretend
          she gives off her own light
          while she glows. And even
          so, half of her life
          she cannot see the sun
          for the earth.
But most days I just miss you
          the way the earth longs
          for the stars. They are so
          far off and they glitter seemingly
          so impossibly. Like the earth I
          cannot come to you and
          like the stars, you
          are so far away and
          so beautiful, but
          you are
          so cold.

Like a sponge, latching on
to anything.
Squirreling everything away inside
Its heart, porous,
with all the holes. Maybe
They can be filled like this.
They can't.

Eventually, we put the sponge under
Pressure.
And then watch,
Sickened,
As everything hidden away in the
         porous heart of a sponge
Comes gushing out.