all that remains:
crumpled receipts
(cigarettes, coffee,
day old dreams) and
your taste, lingering
so softly upon my

i always miss you
all wrong, through
the sleepless nights
and somnolent days—
the longing fails to
cease; it only grows
more tortuous (the
aching more agonizing,
more pleasurable).

…your strong hands and
slow smile let me know
i'm home.