My love, your absence is too heavy to bear, the nights without you are too black, too bare of stars, and leave an empty chill in my bones.

I loathe the hollow days before you, before the world turned to melted gold, before this madness in my heart overwhelmed all that was sensible and common in me.
I am intangible without you, a meandering spirit wandering neither here nor there, I am nonsense, without purpose or form and to put it quite plainly, I am lost without you.

In my night hour wonderings I am darkened and turned to jealousy. How could he not know each night he holds the universe in his hands? How could he not be driven to near-death at the pressing of his lips to yours? How could he be so dull when he has seen you undressed? I tasted your tongue just once and it made me a poet. I want to snap his bones for not loving you like I would.

I want to know all your gentle places, to dedicate every single last day to knowing which spots make you gasp and moan and scream and tremble. If only you knew how I wish to pleasure you, to worship you, to kneel at your feet and make a god between your thighs.

You are astonishing to me. Why aren’t you here?