Every Woman Who Dresses Like You Poem by Uriah Hamilton

Like King David’s bed,
My bed is swimming with tears,
The not seeing you down these lonely years
Of heartbreak and multiplying fears;
I’m dreaming of you, simply dreaming of you,
But these dreams are merely
A disappointing substitute.

I breathe your perfume in fashionable boutiques,
I gaze at bouquets you would have adored at floral shops,
I notice every woman who dresses like you
Of a certain age and height,
I imagine they’re you, I pray they’re you,
But it is all a mind device to console me.

I’ve been fasting in this emotional desert,
I’m losing my strength and my real essence,
I’m wasting away with such a hunger
To see the world through your eyes,
To watch your hair flirt with the sunlight,
To touch your hands in a theater or church pew,
To live my life entwined with you.

Everything is difficult now,
Sleep has flown away like a bird,
I remain awake in the pale moonlight
That has disowned me as a lover
And frowns at my presence in the night.