Autumn

I miss you like Autumn;

sepia-stained

bedsheets that

carried us into

purgatory

upon wretched sea

That look

in your eyes

reaching out

to touch me

Me, once a stranger

to those eyes

whose lips

remind me

of the stranger in mine

I yearn to feel

your fingers

take root

inside me

seeking nourishment

sowing the seeds

of rapture

at season's end