Poem "Absent"

To my rebel prince, who lets me be by way of being himself -

What day is day if your lips are absent? Surely only a day of longing for them, such sweetness that spills from them spoils me for silence and makes a mockery of all else that passes from my own.

Oh to taste that sweetness! Taste you, again, and feed the hungry beast that settles in all the places that aren't filled by you, or reminders of your presence, your essences, your soul -
so catlike. So proud, with sharp claws and sharper teeth that bite with such plesure they must sense beyond senses -
and far beyond my flailing pen, which skips only for you.