my fingers twitch
an itching under the tips
a nervous searching
for the smooth feel
of the skin
across your cheekbone
they tap
impatient and out of sync
a restless dance of
digits
unable to sit
still
my mouth
a continuous
phantom tingle
tickling
my lips
so i keep them
pressed tight
to dismiss
them missing you
because
they are not kissing you
the memory
of that
the faint brush
tender touch
of lips
lingering soft
but urgent
against yours
sharply inhaling
the exhale
of
your breath
wistful
the days
slowly yawn on
while
i yearn
for that
blessed moment
when
we were one
But Otherwise Fine 