curling my toes into little fists like eyes shut tight
replaying all my best kisses, every butterfly I've swallowed
tugging at bed sheets alone like your skin,
like your shirt when I am asking you to please come back
and I fold myself deeper into blanket rolls and I remember
why I don't do this kind of thing anymore.
because too many sunlit moments get drowned in the cracks and fissures
between words, like too many smiles I've missed while I am
looking just past your shoulder.
I leaf through these days and weeks and push myself into crippled love affairs
and push myself out of your arms and into your arms and there is
so much that I skim through
or skip forward to cloudy lips on mine again with my eyes closed,
pillow hair between my thumbs and damp eyelashes
twisting myself further down into my sheets
holding my own hips and lying against this headboard like it is someone's chest
remembering why loving is such a bad idea while I am missing you so damn much
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