The Morning After

I
love to find
whisps of your hair in the sink
while washing my face.
dark and curled,
slightly. and free.
like you seem to be.
I
love to find
ashes next to your
coffee cup on my patio
while breathing fresh
air in the dawn's
twilight.
I
love to find a glass
left on the counter
that smells of aged scotch
strong and pure
like you seem to be.
I
love that sometimes
you leave a tee shirt
tossed carelessly on the sofa
or floor
and, it smells of you.
proud and sure
that certain allure
that I might be
addicted to.
I
love your damp
rags in the shower floor
the touch of you that I want more
of
in this
way, in this place.
your face
etched in/to my memory
like some emblazoned
thing.
I
love the way
you micro/sleep
and wake and pace
through the night,
like some scared and lonely
child-thing.
I
love the way
you make me
forget there's a world,
outside my window.
and how I can hold you.
and how I forget about tomorrow,
and never knew of this thing called
yesterday.
I
love to find you
smiling, asleep
glow-like under the distant
warmth of
sunlight
I
love to watch you
there full up on peace,
with.out care.
I
love when you are here,
I
crave when you are
not near.