For P.
I Miss Your Hands –
Your Wrist Against My Thigh,
Waiting Palm Upturned,
Reaching To Join With Mine.
I Miss Your Fingers –
Traveling The Skin Of My Hand,
Fingertips Tracing Mine,
Learning My Contours.
I Miss Your Skin –
Olive And Silken And Smooth,
Warming Under My Touch,
Soft Hairs Bristling.
I Miss Your Eyes –
Clear And Dark And Searching,
Piercing Through My Veneer,
Seeking My Answers.
I Miss Your Scent –
Manly And Clean And Musky,
Floating From Your Skin,
Igniting My Memories.
I Miss Your Smile –
Warm And Full And Open,
Brightening Your Face,
Inviting Me To Match It.
I Miss Your Hug –
Pulling Me Tight To You,
Joining, Neck To Knees,
Circling Me In Your Arms.
I Miss Your Lips –
Tender, Sweet And Probing,
Drawing My Breath From Me,
Claiming Me As Yours.
Each Of These Things, I Miss,
And More –
And You Haven-‘t Even Left Yet.