Hazy without You

Film sweeps my lids shut,
Without eyes too see,
Without ears to hear,
Without tongue to taste.

I hear no sound of yours,
I feel no touch.
All is haze, and I am one with my base.

Made of clay fashioned for you,
Metal leaves no cloyish glue,
to arouse our senses.
Without a bind, we are slipping.

Fumes that consume promises,
Rapture completed in silence,
as all we are is slipping.