This soul, in the oil of your absence
And at such, have you set it ablaze
With a single glimpse of you
In the seeds, hides the heat of peppers
They yet are the bearers of life
Where one sees the pungent, stark heat
The farmer sees fruits of his labour
In moments alone, surrounded by many
They are, but they are not you
Even the August company, is but a void
In the stark absence of your gentle exhale
I would be home, or so I thought
In the hum of the stars, distant and bright
Yet they make no such desired sounds
My ears wish to hear your batting eyelids
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