.
miss her in the curve of some other girl's smile
in the half-awake intrusions
she makes across from memory
into my solitary sleep shifts
miss her in spaces I arrange neatly
around the absence
making her-shaped holes
still look like a mess
in a thousand laughing photographs
I can no longer look at
and on the outsider's edge
of all the in-jokes
I can no longer share
________________________________________
-Peace
.
1 comment:
This one popped into my head while I was reading your melancholy musing:
Miss her between the cracks
of hands that want her
here, whisper-near, with me.
Anyway, like it a lot! Even if a mourning mess is building, it ain't no bad thing for your writing Randall!
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