Sun rises again, miles between us remain unchanged
like rushing rivers and extended state lines, closer than hand.
How many days must pass until I see his face again and grasp
no longer cold, empty from dangling fingers. Left
to clutch, nails boring deep into palms, aching to brush
against his chest as a new sun rises, miles between us remain
distant as memories of smoldering eyes. A sliced
and split photograph cannot compare so I will wait
for the day until I can see his face again and kiss
those sweet parted lips, tempting, burning red.
They danced against my tongue, leaving behind taste of sugar
into the morning and rising sun where miles have changed
as our bodies curled underneath cotton sheets,
twisted and turned, conforming to our tender
entwine. How many days must pass until I wake up
to beaming bright lights through glass, sun
warming cheeks. Eyes flutter open, gazing at curled
hair, angelic expression and misty eyes. Sun rose, miles
between us faded, and the day I can his face again finally came.