You

You are a song that I sing to myself late at night

When you're not at home

And no matter how many times I punch the keys,

I can't get a dial tone.

You are an old picture that sleeps on the walls

Unnoticed and blanketed in dust

And every time I pass it by

My silence turns its bright colors to rust.

You are the goose bumps on my skin

when I get cold

Lonely and tired

Tears new, pain old.

Your lips speak melodies of smiles and kisses

Hopes and wishes,

Fresh on my flesh

As I unfold.

You are a wish that I pray for,

Hands huddled and sweat

On my body as I

Cuddle and cradle the floor.

You are the burn in my side

As my nails claw the sheets

And the fading silhouette

passing by when we meet

You.