cold is for sleeping
i miss your warmth next to me

this evening started quickly
hot shower, soft bed,
keys barely stopped swinging on their hook
when my head hit the pillow

i woke with a start and blinked in panic
at the seven nineteen displayed in red
glowering at me wicked with glee
at my racing heart and quick breath
though my room was forming around me,
i reached for you and you were not there
i searched my skin for the memory of your hands
or the press of your body
but there was no fading heat
no solid comfort within reach
no smooth spicy skin to press myself against
and no arousing whiff of your mingled scents
shower gel, long day, sated male, warm night

i grabbed my phone as my pulse slowed
and confirmed the "pm" next to the time
i rolled to my other side,
and tried to find that calm floating place
where sleep takes me back out on the ocean of my dreams
but i'd slipped from the boat and wandered too far ashore
not noticing the path i'd stumbled down
i listened for the sounds of my surf
but they were too far away to lead me back
not even a distant echo of your snores,
rising and falling like breaking waves,
could be heard.

now i'm stranded here, in electric land
with the bits and bytes and blue glow hum
casting about for some sign,
a direction or a hint of where to go
to get back to the cradled rocking
and soothing call of my dreams . . .
without you

entry seventy-eight written 2007-12-27