Poetry: “When You Are Gone”

When you are not here,

a yearning cracks my mind,

seizing with thoughts

of our hands interlaced.

The tracing of your fingers,

on the freckles of my face,

and the gentle touch,

no more than a soft tickle,

on the skin of my waist.

I miss those hot breaths,

heating my neck-

turning it moist.

Oh, and the way your fingers,

dance between my hair,

in such craving of my presence,

with all of your soft care.

But, what I miss most of all,

on days you are gone,

is the way we could sit

in silence with no barrier of words

or sentences in our way,

just our cradled bodies-

and long moments to waste.

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