You.

I wake up with sweat
drooling down my portentous pores;
The copacetic silence is striking.
My mind winds backwards,
attempting to retrace every detailed thought.
Though at times, slipping into holes of blank.
I collapse into a scheme of fabricating scenarios,
just to bound up the whimpered wounds.
Frustruated with fury,
I forfeit my strive.
Nothing I force fantasize will ever compare,
relate, or even be close to equivalent
with the

m
        e
  s
           s
     y,

s
w
e
a
t
y,

s.a.s.s.y,

moaning sex dream I just had of you.

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