God I miss him,
I miss the days of old.

I can taste it.

It tasted like a windy summer night.
Where the waxing gibbous moon was radiating;
Lighting up the cloudless night and then reflecting on the surface of my heart.

Where every small movement of he makes
– with his lips, hands and fingers caused ripples.
They were exaggerated in the best way possible.

It tasted like a cold autumn night;
Like the golden, sweet and sticky honey;
drizzled over warm waffles and a hot cup of rose tea.

Where the waxing gibbous moon was glowing;
Glowing through my curtains then onto my mirror,
casting a reflection on my bed.

Where he lies all day,
Waiting for me to return from reality –
to where I truly belong.  
Where we waltzed with stars and I slide down the Milky Way
right into his arms.


I am a nefelibata.