next best thing

i'm sorry,

i have been sleeping with
winter in my sheets.

he comes through my window
now and then and i let him kiss me like
you would, knead
his legs against my thighs and
bite my ear like you would.

winter is replacing
your memory bit by bit,
filling the absent contours of
your body with his
windy lust, whirling
passions wrestling my
limbs and

i confess,

i have been falling asleep
in his arms instead of yours,
lulled in his love
instead of yours-

and during those desperate
nights that i spend drunk,
nestled in the soft snow
of his frosty skin,

i still dream of you and your
west-coast warmth,
your sunshine hair,
your beach-blue eyes;

i still miss
you and your everything-
summer.