When You Go Poem by Amy Serhienko

I miss your hands -
your wrist against my thigh,
waiting palm upturned,
reaching to join with mine.

I miss your fingers -
traveling the skin of my hand,
fingertips tracing mine,
learning my contours.

I miss your skin -
olive and silken and smooth,
warming under my touch,
soft hairs bristling.

I miss your eyes -
clear and dark and searching,
piercing through my veneer,
seeking my answers.

I miss your scent -
manly and clean and musky,
floating from your skin,
igniting my memories.

I miss your smile -
warm and full and open,
brightening your face,
inviting me to match it.

I miss your hug -
pulling me tight to you,
joining, neck to knees,
circling me in your arms.

I miss your lips -
tender, sweet and probing,
drawing my breath from me,
claiming me as yours.

Each of these things, I miss,
and more -
and you haven’t even left yet.