A Fantasy Poem

When it comes to fantasy your still my go to man
late at night as my pillow creases from abuse
I lay there still and let my senses reel
with the touch of your eyes and the brush of your
corpuscle smile...
As morning arrives flushed with the memory
of yesterday's salty dream
I stand at the window staring at a tousled girl
who rims the shadows of an early morning rill
Curtains agape, kitchen lights on,
a fatalistic morning arrives
as I recall the reflections of a warm body
and words, of unspoken feel ;

I unflinch and whisper I love u's ,
to the wind
and the debris,
outside my front yard.