the sky is dark;
the streets are silent,
waiting for sunlight's kiss.
i care not for it;
i long for none but that from you.
i blink, but do not sleep;
my mind is also restless, churning.
my lips now touch a cold, glass neck,
which brings me warmth, but not the sort
that filled me when they met your throat,
and coaxed from you a long, trembling breath.
bitter tastes now rest on my tongue;
one dissolves; the other remains
and counteracts the first.
i whisper to the sleeping world
my plea for your company,
for the puzzle piece who so perfectly joined
the other scattered shards of my life,
locked with my body, and completed my bed

which now feels empty, though filled
with pillows, blankets, and my own long legs

for here, in this same darkness
on a sweltering summer morning,
our bodies touched, sweat blended,
sighs sang together for the first time

and this was our favourite time of day. . . .

the world begins to come to life;
i've beaten the darkness for one more night,
but during the day, i die
only a little more slowly.