Blushing Moon

I reach for your hand and all that I feel
is the keyboard of my soul, the touch of
the human hand pressing warmly on
my own skin is missing from that life.

I listen in my room for the sound
of your voice and all that I hear
is a digital echo clicking in my
dreams, wandering through the
corridors of space left in my empty
ears

I look for your eyes, open and caring
wanting and real, piercing to my core
if ever seen in moonlight and what
I spy instead in my vision is more of
an illusion

I try to smell the perfume of you
lingering upon a memory some
place recent, some place far, and
the odor that nestles in my nose
is that of a warm and dusty modem
humming vacant on the lonely floor.

I could taste the juices of us,
but only if I capture the honey
upon the blushing moon's sky