this morning
the fog on the street
flickered beauty into my window
and i woke up tangled
in anxious anticipation
to feel your breath on my shoulders
and your arms holding up my spine;
looking down on the way my skin
turns to wax
and melts beneath a wholehearted wick
burning away blindness.
the beads of dew on my cheeks
are simply the footprints that the mist
left behind when it retreated
to the mountians,
and the distance grows slim
with each patient morning
as i wait for your presence
to stain my pores
and drip down my eyes.