Now

I sit alone on your bed,

your cold cotton sheets

press against my hips while

I listen to the drip drop of

the kitchen facet perform

Chinese water torture on

the stainless steel sink.

I wonder where you are, and

why I’m wondering at all.

Why do I miss your arms,

Your soft smile,

Your full laugh,

Your seemingly telepathic

connection to the pain in my body,

The way you run your fingers firmly

up my neck as if there were a map

in your head filled with all the

places I want you to touch me.