When I say I miss you,
I don’t mean I miss our conversations.
Because in the gleaming age
of the damned internet that’s apparently sending us all to hell,
as well as down crumbling rabbit holes,
caving in behind us
as we scurry further down,
kicking off the dusty dirt from the soles of our feet –
you’re always only a call away.
Glowing quietly
amidst the plunge of 2am darkness;
an iridescent firefly,
floating atop the lull
of a forest kept quiet for its’ residents,
comatose beside their hoard of frosted acorns.
When I say I miss you,
I mean I miss the feeling
of holding my hand out
when I feel shaky; steady
in the comfort that it won’t be drifting
for long before yours curls around and between it,
like a cat’s bushy tail swaddling its own body, wilted
with a slumber buried in its bones.
And so with this space between us,
stretched across a canyon of unprecedented times,
too far
for even the tips of our fingers to meet,
I miss you.
Image courtesy of Visuals.
Categories: Poetry
so beautiful ♥
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