Crave

How I crave your sonnets on my pillow
words like kisses, a sweet reminder of you
to colour my dreams when you were away,
they were my castles in the air, built with tender verse
and founded on affection. Now crumbling ruins,
all that remains are pages, the haunting memory
of words written with sincerity.

How I crave your kisses, soft embraces
that sheltered me from the world, how cruel now
that they are gone. How heartening even their memory
when troubles come, bitter sweet assurances
that I can face it all alone, my song of courage,
every reason to go on.

How I crave your generous heart, that deep dark well
where I hid my insecurities, the day you left
that well broke, showering me in grief,
constant tears each as sharp, and cruel, as ice,
a piece of my self pity, self disgust, each a little death.

How I crave the words "I love you" spoken with honesty,
with the certainty of emotion that would never end.
Those emotions have disappeared it seems
and certainty coloured false. I hold no regrets
for those memories, even their pain,
only apprehension for the future, indefinate
and beyond my perception.

Sam.