on the emptiness of touch

i close my eyes
& all i can see,
in the sea of blackness,
of nothingness -
emptiness from touch belonging to a time
already parted from the world that is
again
solely mine.
all i can see is
the fusion of two lips
filling the crevices of each other perfectly;
from afar we would have looked
too close, too connected - unreal.
doesn't matter who,
just the what -
just the sensation of
"all things mellow in the mind".

--

even now i miss -
roll out the carpet to fill the gaping hole
in my chest, for want
of returning to the sensation of
being held
from the back,
just like twin foetuses in bed,
your hand in mine,
the other engulfing my waist,
dreaming together;
but whose hand doesn't matter,
it could be yours, or yours.
what matters is the tightness of its grip in mine -
the sensation of finally someone not letting go.
fleeting, yes, but let me dream -
even if it is merely
until daylight.