Missing you like all we have is the past



Lying sideways on a stripped mattress.

My hand extending to the window.

As my skirt hikes up.

No one touches my legs.

No one asks what I’m reaching for.

You live in my thoughts and yet I still miss you.

How colourful it is within the synapses.

But I’m limited to only what I can ponder.

And all I can think of lately is how to get you to sit on the edge of my mattress.

It’s been too long since I felt the warmth and weight of a hand.

Too many conversations with women, Too many high voices.


Could I jarringly ask for your attention?

Skip the gossip and the small talk,

Get into the meat of all this

Bite into this bloody section…

Blood and ice mixing and melting.

I’ve been alone for too long,

Messing with the wrong kind of men.

Making me abrupt.

Teaching me I can be vile and they’ll still come around.

Only I never wanted them around anyway.


The more I’m around you, the more I see how I’ve done wrong.

I want to confess it all to you,

But I stuff the pillow in my mouth.

I guess that’s not what they meant by pillow talk.

Muttering over eiderdown,

Still looking like I got feathers on my back.

I still dream of looking you in the eye.

Giving you some clue of my misdirection.

I’d like you to give me some cliché answer like “it all led you to me”.

But what I’m really worried about is an exchange of sins.

What will your words do to me?


I miss you like all we have is the past.

Centered in nostalgia…

But it’s because there is so much left unsaid…

We are but strangers…

Strangers with our hands in each other’s pockets,

Arms entangled as we walk

We want people to know we are here and we aren’t alone,

But when we part that’s never the truth.

The truth is what we need to find.

In this truth we will find profound solidarity.

The End

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