separation

And in this separation my hands grow cold...

My hair disheveled under the pressure of this necessary extraction.

The heart vibrating with the loneliest of songs as your strings pluck her slowly with regret.

If I could have known such beauty resided there I would have never turned the cheek.

If I would have heard you clearly speak without hesitation in your thoughts, speak without masking your need.

The fever of you fills me still...

Stay near.

Stay here.

I need your warmth.

I need your words and I need your sound.