Nights Without G.

A brown crust rims
the cocoa cup
still unfinished
long since grown cold

The book on my
lap is open
to the same page
it was last night

I won't look at
the clock again
it's a promise
I've made myself

and broken just
about every
fifteen minutes
since you've been gone

Distant thunder
echoes as if
heard within a
hollow canyon

Curtains flutter
with a midnight
breeze that carries
a scent of rain

like the smell of
your shower damp
breasts as I have
nuzzled them dry

like the taste of
the mingled tears
upon our lips
when last we kissed

I walk over
to the window
leave cup and book
and robe behind

Trembling fingers
trace my face and
lips and throat as
if I might find

the trails you've etched
invisibly
indelibly
beyond my skin

I cup my breasts
lift them and pinch
nipples rising
to the night wind

My belly warms
to the palm of
my hand gliding
ever lower

More than bedtime
I remember
our laughter and
those quiet talks

books we've read and
argued over
shared disasters
in the kitchen

lazy days when
we've done little
but watch the rain
as I watch now

stroking secret
places only
you know as well
as I know yours

Pain and pleasure
folding over
at the feel of
fingers and nails

The petals of
my cunt blooming
around the stem
of my clit 'til

lightning flashes
sky cracking boom
body arches
I cry out or

maybe just cry
as I shiver
out of control
and slowly sink

down on my knees
fingers still clenched
between my thighs
upon my breasts

I roll over
the carpet nap
rough against my
skin like the first

time you took me
in this same room
Fingers moist from
my arousal

I lift to a
damp face and taste
as if to find
your flavor there

but there's only
me and I know
I'll never tell
you of this night

or the others
so like it when
you return from
your trip back home

but will listen
and laugh at your
stories of kin
the 'hood and friends

then we'll make love
with that special
ferocity
following times

we've spent apart
the truth we tell
without words for we're
too young and free

to accept the
independence
we cultivate
is illusion

and either of
us might have to
prove it not so
should the other

commit the sin
of confessing
she sees beyond
the ignorance

So I will hold
this memory
ever secret
of listening

to the rain while
I gently stroke
myself again
and dream of you