These spaces where your fingers belong
make me ignore my hands
That shoulder I like to rest my head on
My head grows heavier every day.
Curse these ears that strain to hear
that tonal quality
that only your voice fulfills.
I close my eyes from the dark mood
that curses the lack of seeing
your sleeping form in moonlight.
I sense a pattern in my days.
I see symmetry that aches my bones.
The distance between two points.
makes me wish for a straight line.