Shallow

I miss you: the unique tone of your words,
the high and low notes of your voice,
the way you hold your wine glass
– how I adore your rough, handsome fingers! –
the shape of your smile,
the way your shoulder blades stick out,
the angle of your hips,
the length from the bottom to the tip,
and
the subtle sadness in your eyes
when I place my lips on you,
dance my fingers around you,
feel the furthest point of your body
under my tongue, leaning
against the back of my throat, and then
your hardness fall between my softness,
as my flow of life blends into yours.

Yet my memories, my deepest ones,
started one early morning
when you said hello to me,
when you were so gentle,
when you were still the unknown,
but somehow,
closer to my heart than you are now.
The more we know about each other
the further apart we get, even though
we have become more casually comfortable
with each other’s presence, the growing intensity
of my emotions,
the endless, exhausting questions
from the part of me
that longs for what we cannot be
together.

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