Who is to say why the mind windmills and eyes go wide? I once saw you naked in your bath and I wanted to crawl beneath your skin I wanted to feel what it would be like to inhabit you to live in your hands as they swept across your body, moving out along your limbs to discover if the spots where they lingered were the ones I most desired to know the distance between belly and thigh and to lean in for one last kiss. A thing like this does not augur comfort nor speak of its origin. I miss your weight on top of me, the warm taste of your lips, the straw scent of your unruly hair. I have loved you for so long there’s scarcely a name for it. My hand fumbles with a shoe, across town a siren wails. I wonder: Have you had enough time to forget? Have there been enough moments of regret? What little there is left of you is too close The rest is too far away, too distant to kiss What more can I offer when I have nothing to spare?
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"My hand fumbles with a shoe,
across town a siren wails."
These images perfectly portray your sense of loss.
"I have loved you for so long there’s
scarcely a name for it."
Such a delicate picture of longing and loss. Thank you, Paul.