I'll Be Seeing You

My fingertips trace the rims of consciousness. The noon hour has arrived - so says the sky, but behind their lids, my eyes deny the light, which pours in from parted curtains over the bedside. Only hours ago - I know - you disconnected from our nightly juxtaposition, which stirred me momentarily, before the faint whisper of your kiss fell over my lips and released me again from the talons of cognizance. Whilst I slept, I certainly dreamt, and dream - I did - of you. So pardon my eyes for their aversion to this light, for they'd rather be seeing you.