Less Than A Month

Less than a month and I miss you.
A boundless yearning seeps through the flesh of my heart,
pouring into every vessel within my frail body.
Three weeks without you and dysfunction has overcome.
I cannot sleep at night--not beside this empty space.
I try to fill it with pictures, pillows, and promises,
but nothing can take your place.
A throbbing settles heavily in my temples, 
bashing repetitively at the failing walls of logic and reason.
You're not here-- what else is there to it?
Intricate visions of a timeless replay torment my poor brain,
and I twist and turn and pace and lie,
but rest is distant; agony thrives.
My arms fold across my waist in a pitiful attempt
to mimic the comfort you warmly brought.
But my hands are small, thin, and weak;
they cannot grasp the sense inside the way you could,
and so I curl solemnly in fetal position against the wall
hoping to disappear.
I wish you were near. Oh, I wish you were near.
Tears spill like untamed rivers beyond the eyes 
you've kissed, the cheeks you've kissed,
the lips you married. 
Then-- they were passionately heated and smoothed.
Now-- they are cold, lonely and scarred.
Is there a cure for this disease spreading through me?
Is there a way to stop this profound madness?
I think to pray, but the only entity that hears me
is silence.
My stomach churns, my chest hurts, and as the lights grow dim,
I realize a single truth: less than a month is more than
my soul can fathom;
I clearly cannot live without you.