
When you leave...
there is no rustle of sheets,
no re-tracing on my skin
the satisfaction
where your fingers and lips caressed.
When you leave
my lips are not throbbing
from your farewell kiss
and my body is not cooling
where it curved into the
firm and pleasing warmth
of you
but oh, there is in its place
the vexing sensation
that it should be
When you leave, all I hear
is good-bye
as you hang up the phone
Outside the chill-wind moans
in tuneless sympathy
J~
At minus 17 I'm thinking of the blessing of warmth!
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