A Moon of Wanting

Every day I wake up

wanting and every night

I go to sleep wanting more.

Want is an undying candle, impossible

to blow out, impossible to ignore,

sometimes loved, sometimes hated,

always there, burning. 

Sometimes the ghosts

of previous relationships and states

of being, that once quelled

the wanting, come back and haunt,

overwhelmingly so. 

But now, there it is again, this feeling

and image that

if only I could lay here

on the couch, wrap my arm around

your chest, feel your back press

into me, your legs curl up

around mine, the touch of my lips

on the back of your ear

through your hair, 

then the wanting would disappear

as the sun set at 4:45pm

and the soft light touching

the books on the bookshelf,

the instruments on the wall,

the stillness covering us like a blanket,

would fade into darkness.