© 2004 by Mike Kimera

I still lie on my side of our bed
curled ‘round your old shirt
scavenging your scent
sustaining my memory

I still feel your heat pressing into me
when I’m lying on my belly
letting my fingers
take your place

I still open my legs and offer my mound,
to your soft, skilled tongue,
trying to summon
a remembered caress

I still rage at you for leaving me alone,
gnawed at by fierce hungers
that you awoke
which never sleep

I still reach out for you when I wake
puzzled anew by your absence
slow to remember
your pointless death

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