Rise

I miss your breath
or maybe the rise
of your chest.

I miss all the moments
we never had,

the white-sheet mornings
layered with breakfast in bed
and the sunset afternoons
shot through with your sleepy eyes
saying you love me.

The shock of your laugh,
its stillness
in the middle of a sentence,
and the turn of your head
as if you were trying
to hide it,
the pieces which show
your underbelly,

I miss them
even if I never had them.

I’ve always
stared at you,
searched for you.
Since we were kids
watching movies in your den,
me alone
and you with your girl,
I stared
with this distant longing
and unrequited heartache,

and I’m still doing it.

Twenty years later,
I can still
taste your lips,
feel every touch
of your hands,
even though I only had them
once.

The missing hardens,
grows like lead
mixed with cement,
and sits inside
my stomache.

It aches,
agony quickening
beneath my teeth,
and you are there,
and I am whole
instead of shattered.

***

Sometimes, I think of a word or phrase, and I have to write it down. Such is so with this piece. It doesn’t really make much sense to me because it started with one person and ended with another. I guess that explanation also doesn’t make much sense, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

~ Patience

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