I miss you in the deepest darkest raptures of night
in the bitter air and fog where only angels fear to tread
but junkies and whores roamed freely beneath your bedroom window
I was afraid too
waiting on the street below
in the sanctuary of that moment before your face appeared in the glass

there was always glass
my back pressed hard against it
bags dropping, clothes tearing, teeth clawing and desperate hands
fury brewing even then, we could not help ourselves