509 Name [04 September 2002]

His name begs to be spoken by my hungry lips,
and he is with me wherever I go.
Always just out of reach,
his breath a soft whisper on the skin of my neck.
His voice always known,
only heard as a memory of sound.
I close my eyes to see those eyes flashing mischief,
that mouth curving in amusement.
Would that I could see him, know him,
once more.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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