Meloncholia Poem by grace mariner

I miss that face.
That heavy brow, the awning over the steel blue eyes.
I miss that voice, it's almost effeminate perfection
that could always calm my stormiest sea.
I miss those long elegant fingers that made my skin erect
and my feminine melt at its very core.
The sound of that damaged heart.
The sadness from that damaged life that equaled
the sadness of my own.
All lost, all longed for in my waking and sleeping hours.
I have no passion left, it all went with you that
February morning.
Your kiss, your touch, all of your masterful manhood,
gone from my clutches in one profoundly wicked
moment of wreckage.
I miss that face.
I miss you my sweetest love, my lovely monster,
Master of my heart.