Do you think about her?

In bed as the sky opens an eye,

faint blue like the heart.

A longing that keeps the curtain drawn,

there's something pleasant here,

bathing in poison.

Warm, empty hands cannot share their heat-

we are two different kinds of things,

too many leagues away,

but to dream!

How it aches so good.

Feedback links: "interwebs" by paul_brennans_ghost "Her, without poetry" by paul_brennans_ghost