It Is Not

It is not...

It is not the pressing of skin against skin,
The soft slide of your flesh on mine.
It is the space between us that cannot be filled
Even when we are touching

It is not the sound of your breath catching,
Your voice on the telephone.
It is the angel who stands in silence
Over your shoulder

It is not the taste of your lips on mine,
The sweet, silken cavern of your mouth.
It is the bitterness of your absence
On my tongue.

It is not the fragrance of your hair in my hands,
Lustrous and sweet as incense.
It is the trace of despair on my sheets
When you're gone.

It is not the light I see in your eyes,
The luminescent, nearly liquid chocolate.
It is the caustic blindness
You leave behind.

By Xia Harria

Comments? Click here to email comments about this poem.