Ocean liners dance on the
        brink of my consciousness,
as oil spills from their hulls
        diluting my thoughts
like rain on sugar.

And where are you?

Your scent remains here still
        with my anticipation of
desperation.
But where is your body?
That is what I seek.
What my hands long to
        cleave.

Where are you?

Oh well,
        you never were much for timing.