One Day

One day
you’re going to wake up
and it’s not going
to hurt so much.
One day the sun
will be brighter
and the rain warmer.
When is one day?
Because it’s been
thousands of days
and one day hasn’t come.
I can still feel your hair
beneath my fingers,
the first time
I really touched you
after those two years.
I can picture the sparkle
in your eyes
as you grabbed me,
your hot mouth
devouring all the time
between us.
My heart quickens
and my breath catches
like tar in my throat
because the moment
is as palpable
as your touch used to be.
It’s surprising
and unexpected
every time,
and I’m trapped
in the past,
pressed flat
by the weight
of your body,
your fingers,
your love.
I’m still waiting
for one day
but I don’t know
if it’s real.
Shouldn’t it have come by now?
Shouldn’t I be able
to wrap you up
in a dusty shoebox
and tuck you away
for reminiscing
instead of yearning?
Where is my one day?
I can’t even force myself
to forget.

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