Missing You

I lie beneath the same sky,
but it’s eight thousand miles too far,
between your touch and mine.
The moon hangs heavy,
a silent witness to the ache inside me --
the longing, the hunger
that only your skin can satisfy.

I close my eyes and feel you,
your breath,
your lips on my neck,
the warmth of your body against mine.
But it’s only a whisper in the dark,
the ghost of you,
faint as the shadow of the moon.

I blow a kiss,
my lips tracing the air,
soft and slow,
like I’m kissing you,
like I’m telling you what I need,
what I crave.
The moon catches it --
carries it to you.

I dream of your hands,
your fingertips tracing the edges of my soul,
leaving fire in their wake.
Every inch of me aches to feel you,
to taste you,
to lose myself in the way you love.

And though you are so far,
in this moment,
your touch is real --
a whisper across my skin,
a flame igniting,
burning the distance away,
melting the miles
until I am with you,
wrapped in the heat of your love.

---

for Andy on March 10, 2025