I cannot run my hand from your shoulder down your arm, slip my fingers into yours and clasp hands
I cannot quench my lips with yours or taste you on my tongue
I cannot feel your warmth under the sheets on winter nights or the cool of your breath on my neck in summer
I cannot see you in the morning, hair tousled and sleep in your eyes or when you walk around the house so casually scant, pretending you don't know that it drives me wild
I cannot find my world in you at the end of the day or quicken my heart when I hear your keys in the door
I cannot wipe your tears or hold you when the world is broken
I cannot share the joy and sadness in us both, as one who understands the scars on your arms and on your soul
I cannot call your name in passion or for comfort in the middle of the night or see the promise in your eyes as the syllables tumble over my lips
I cannot hear your voice with its bubbly and sultry intonations whispering songs and secrets to me or get lost in it's sound for hours
I cannot love you in my arms, So I will love you in poems and memories and dreams and sing a song for you in the silence