a little truth:

absence does not make the heart grow fonder
It simply makes it go crazy with longing 

every night I lie in bed restless 
wishing I were in your arms
so I turn sideways, searching
but of course you aren’t there 

what absence is: nothingness 
nothing, no one to see or feel
no one but me and my heart
which hardly swells with love 

there is only painful longing
alive and wriggling with want 
to the point of physical pain
it is strangled and strained

my heart has turned raw and
it beats with tangible exertion
exposed, I feel continuous stabs
as it reaches out, trying to connect 

I cannot stop this involuntary muscle
anguished, I must ride out the tumults  
it is not pretty, nor in the name of love
but rather a violent reaction out of need 

in keeping you, I am losing myself.