I walked through
the falling leaves and tasted
the crisp fog and the maple air
I ran my fingers
over frost stone
over spider rope
over field lace and sky

I did not miss you.

I twisted braids of dough
and brushed them with icing sugar
surrendered them to the fire
and hoped for the best.

I did not miss you.

I bit into the softest peach
the juice sweet against my chin

I did not miss you.

I tried to dance the waltz alone
and listened to his voice
when he sang of the moon and the magazine
the sailors lament

to think of your radiant skin
the shine of your teeth
how your smile
killed a thousand men

Ah, I missed you, then!

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About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Love Poems, On Depression, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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