That which consumes me

There comes a point in the evening when I become aware of a hunger. Hunger for wine, food, cigarettes, conversation. For you. Most of all for you. This hunger haunts and tears at me. Makes me ache for more. So I push it down. I sleep. I wake. I go on with my life. Still it’s always there at the perimeter of everything I do. Waiting. Wanting. It will not be silenced completely. I can stifle but not quench it. It consumes me.