And the Heart Grows Fonder

And the Heart Grows Fonder

Absence sleeps in the middle
of a bed too large for one,
huddled under two blankets more
than needed. With light,
I can fill darkened rooms;
with smoke I can still
rapid blood; with drink
I can quench all thirst
but this. No skin will
sate but the touch of you.

But look, the moon
tonight has left me too,
and being absent, is becoming new.