Why is it that I miss you?

It's not like we do anything together

Except share sex.
Or make love.
Or fuck.

Depending on your mood


Why is it that I miss you?

It's not like we talk together

Except online.
Or by phone.
When you aren't too busy

Why is it that I miss you?

And wait for you to "have time"?

Sitting up for hours past midnight
Waiting
For one message in an eternal-seeming hour?

Why?

Perhaps it's the way I feel when you are with me
Touching me
Seeing me

Perhaps it's the way I feel when you look only at me
As though there's nothing and no one else alive

Or no one who matters

Or perhaps it just
That I'm alone
And I'd miss anyone.



I don't know why I miss you

But I know I do.

Miles between us --
Hours.
I sit here waking
While you sleep,
I hold you in my mind
Because my arms cannot.

Nothing of you
But memory.
I remember,
Terrified that you will forget.
I dream of kisses
My lips cannot feel

I look at the sea,
The great division,
Too wide to bridge with more than words.
And so, I wait for words.
It's not enough.

I know I’ll remember his absence. I scold myself for aiming to be alone and for ending up full of this nothing and I hold my face at night when no one is around to pity me and I cry for no reason…”Tears, Idle Tears…” and sometimes they are idle.

His voice causes so many changes in me, and through him I can see myself, determine my faults and attempt to repair them. He means so much to me after so little time, and of course, I denied it until I smiled at his eyes and I melted and was lost…

When did I write it in stone
that I was meant to be alone?

I don’t remember ever doing it, but something inside me is screaming, like a red traffic signal, but all reds change green eventually, do they not?

Standing by the waterfall, I threw dog wood petals into the water and thought about their legend with Jesus, and watched them disappear as I prayed to the blueberry sky that he would come home and be the same as he had been when he left.

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