elements of missing

ah
sweet despondent sighs
between hiccups of gracious delirium
sorts of 'air painting'
her
yes, where she, the origin of nights
tarnished of blades of promiscuous
longing

she, my sweet rain on a dry land
I tremble as my protruded
imaginings
of her touch, running through the
lengths of my arm
or her lips gently touching
my burning cheeks

despite the miles or the
blurred waves of humbled ways
the many constellations
point
to her direction

to her simple smile
to her gentle laughter
to 'everything' her
that fills my soul with
unbridled joy

time, becomes such  a sweet torture
an escapade beyond what
is logical or
practical even

when seconds come gasping
for air, then the
elements of missing her
(perplexed as this may sound)
become unbearable.