Valentine’s Day poem

The things I wish for always disappear.

I don’t see enough of you,
naked,
in the soft light of day,
nor in the harshness of artificial light,
now I think about it.
Routine and habits divide us.

Sometimes, at night, I wake,
and traces of brightness push their way
through the curtains to leave their trail
on your face.
You look so young then,
and I touch your youth
until I fall asleep again,
cower up to your heat
and dream of seeing you again,
naked.

It’s not just sex, it’s being.
A graze of touch isn’t enough,
here and there,
to remind me of your beauty.
I want to drink empty, to its base,
this cup of passion we first poured
all those years ago,
without an audience,
in an echoing room,
without self-consciousness.

I want you
every second of every minute,
every minute of every hour,
every hour of every day,
every day of every year,
because I love you,
because I don’t see enough of you,
naked.