on nights like this
the midnight air is so heavy,
repeatedly convincing me
only your arms can lift my dense soul.

my eyelids droop persistently
like wilting flowers petals
but are always delighted to be watered
by your soft, caring kisses.

every muscle refuses
to move, bend, breathe
if you’re not close
to restore life into my aching lungs.

cold, stiff fingertips
tighten and frown,
only willing to be thawed by your own
but finding empty air waiting against their touch.

my hair, disheveled and limp,
deeply misses your voice,
simply spilling over my pillow
and hoping your tender whispers will arrive.

nights like this
make me homesick
for a man I’ve never held
but will wait an eternity for.