You

Your eyes are sometimes

All I can think of

When I lie here alone at night

In the bed we used to share

How you used to

Lie here next to me

Your eyes looking into mine

Giving me a glimpse

Into your fascinating brain

Open and vulnerable

But always a little mystery

Retained, something held back

 

Your mouth is sometimes

All I can think of

When I wake up in the morning

And your side of the bed

Is still cold and empty

How I used to run my thumb

Across your full bottom lip

Savoring the moment

Before I leaned in

For your warm morning kiss

 

Your hand is sometimes

All I can think of

When I sit alone on the sofa

Watching the shows

We used to share

The faint scars on your knuckles

From a dust-up on your bicycle

How our fingers used to intertwine

As if they had been made

To nest together

 

Your skin is sometimes

All I can think of

As I do the wash up

Remembering the lovely

Curve of your neck

Your tattoo peeking out of

Your collar

How I used to come up behind you

And breathe in your scent

Before running my face against

That soft, smooth curve

 

Your laugh is sometimes

All I can think of

As I walk these city streets

Without you

By my side

The way you would toss

Back your head

Eyes crinkling

Your mirth uncontained

Making me laugh too

 

Your heart is sometimes

All I can think of

As I learn to live

Without you

It used to be

The place where I lived

Your absence

Is a presence

You are nowhere

And everywhere still

To me

7 thoughts on “You

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