Quarantine Blues

I miss lounging in your bed
Your nicotine sweetened breath an apparition
Ecto-hawk wings furling feathered round my head
Entrancing, woozy, nestled in while 
your tv show s’ whispering to me 
to weave 
ambient peace in anxious carnal's stead
An' it seems, often, it succeeds, 
I drift off deeper into dreams and sometimes also in your warmth
Lavender aura rippling forth 
Bowl packed, pitcher full, 20 pounds of glass sand
Gentle mindless tracing of unbusy fingers 'cross my back 
And I miss kissing 

your mustache.