you miss people with your body.
holding yourself at night and saying
my arms around me
aren't my arms
but someone else's.
and the home which has always been a home
feels a little emptier, heavy with an absence
because you are still here.
and your shadow is here.
the reality of missing is this:
a voice on the phone,
telling you about their day
and you half listening
thinking
come home, come home already.
ESTÁ A LER
Doux
Poesiathe walls with blued body scents soft on the skin, the curtains drawn and a lover asleep close by. ...
