Missing Greg

The bed is empty and I cannot sleep
the pillow does not replace your
sweet head or the feel of you
I count the days till you return
I will melt when I see you and
make love to you on the baggage
round about metal and movement
will not stir me from drinking
in your essence of pure Gregness
the house has no meaning now
your not there in your chair
or working on your speakers
I feel small when you are gone
small and lonely for your touch
Counting the days till I touch
the edge of your shoulder the
palm of your hand and fingers
To catch the glint in your eye
the days will pass but the nights
are long without you in the hall
How can I love you anymore than
this how can I be without you