we come prowling

“absence makes the heart grow fonder”
are the words of someone who
has never met a beast like me

sheepskin pretender seeking out
your smile,
hungry and gleaming
catches my eyes, drawn to
curled hands clawing past skin
into howl filling lungs
when words aren’t enough
to grapple with the feelings
in every glance, every touch

and when there’s no reason
left to prowl, we are lost
in little affections
caging the thundering of our hearts

hinged on the warmth of tender communions
perhaps we are a similar beast