The presence of your absence, is a church bell; distant but clear.
It is the coarseness of a slice of toast without honey; insipid and pointless.
A room with no view, is how the lack of you feels.
The frustration of not being able to recall the lyrics of a once favorite song.
The aftertaste of my morning coffee - fleeting and desperate to linger.
Like the sediments of grainy coffee in your mouth, I hope you can taste me every now and then.
A stale croissant, is what the absence of your presence is.
A tiny crater inside me, simmering with fresh pain, is the absence of your presence.
The pleasure of doing nothing with you, a luxury now.
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