Where Are You?

It's 11 PM and
I don't know where
you
are.

I don't know
which way you're
facing.

If you're sitting up or
lying
down.

I don't know your address
or your phone
or the color of
your
door.

I don't know if you're
humming over dishes
or whistling a tune while
on a
stroll.

I don't know where you are.

I don't know where
you put it when
it's just
too much to
bear.

I don't know if you laugh
in lush gardens or
if you cry
into knapsacks heavily
weighted
down.

I don't know where you are.

I have forgotten your voice.
I have forgotten your face.

Though I can sometimes

remember

your silhouette on top of mine
riding a riot rhythm straight
to
orgasm.

Now its 11:02 PM

and I still don't know where
you
are.