Every Time You Leave

 I still cry every time you leave for more than a day.

Like a little girl, tears running down my cheeks.

I love the exact color of your eyes

and the wrinkles surrounding them that continue to deepen.

I love how you try to pop your back by bending at the waist--

all of the time, even at important events.

I love making off-color jokes in front of our oblivious children

and then catching your eye and seeing the barely-there smile on your lips.

I love when you poke fun of me and how you'll let me poke back.

I love how you keep your word and can remember whole conversations word for word.

I love rubbing my hands up and down your arms and feeling your coarse hair.

I love how you massage my nipples--just right--and how aware of my pleasure you are.

Our bed will feel like the entire ocean with only me to navigate it. 

Our house will feel silent and empty even though there are still people here.

Dinner will feel perfunctory instead of fun and adventurous.  

Life is missing when ever you are gone.

I still cry every time you leave for more than one day.