My head spins,I cannot leave
But neither comfortably stay
My cheek is bulging for your touch
My cheek in ashen grey
Many times lay I with you
Pressed soft against your face
The sun filtered through your beat up blind
Oh God only knows what place!
Come again love if you will
If not then let me die
Take my cheeks of longing dust
And place my golden sky!
SeasideMan
Pro 
That has a nice rhythm and imagery. Good job.
Tom.