I miss it.
I miss the promise of it.
I miss almost tasting it.
The promise of sweet surrender,
To have been safe under your umbrella.
This is what I crave,
More than the curvature of your knave,
More than the clarity when you’d shave,
More than,for once,how lovely you’d behave.
I miss feeling reassured,
The feeling that I haven’t been lured,
Release beyond belief,
While I beg you not to be brief.
Maybe I may have said too much,
I may not even miss you as such,
Though I feel the need to write it down,
From you, I do not require a sound.
With my need, let me hide I plead,
Till I achieve my explosion,
To release me from your emotion,
And your deathly love potion.