Nights are hardest to bear,
alone, atop these unwashed sheets
that smell of you and me, still,
crinkled and heavy with ghosts
of our sweat and loving juices.
I am tethered
to flashes of smiles and kisses
that linger beneath the sweetness of heated exhales.
To smell your breath, again,
and taste you on the back of my tongue.
To pull you into me by the small of your back
and sink into the warmth of white musk–
a tangle of tongues, fingers, and limbs.
To have you, know you, again,
Inside and out, is all I want.
Laying here, drowning in us,
my legs brush against the cold rustle of sheets you left behind,
cutting the airlessness of this room.
Rolling over, I close my eyes
and sink my face into the depths of your pillow,
escaping the void that even silence’s ring has forgotten,
and take you in, drowning in us,
this lover’s kaddish.
The scent of your hair—
blue fig and oranges—and spit,
are but pebbles on the gravestone.
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