I miss

the billowy cotton of you,

I  miss

what I haven’t forgotten of you,

I miss

the willowy half-life of you,

and dismiss

the way that you seemingly threw

your life

into holes that I can’t crawl into.

I insist

that you wait for me out in the blue,

because I miss –

oh darling I miss,

I miss you,

and I wish

that we’d both gone and got that tattoo,

 (before you made up your mind you were through)

 and I wish

 we could sit down at dinner for two,

 (and I swear I won’t order for you)

 and I could kiss

 I could kiss

 only you,

 before your billowy cotton

 turns blue.


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