Get me a milk carton

These spaces where your fingers belong
make me ignore my hands
in self-defense.

That shoulder I like to rest my head on
is missing.
My head grows heavier every day.

Curse these ears that strain to hear
that tonal quality
that only your voice fulfills.

I close my eyes from the dark mood
that curses the lack of seeing
your sleeping form in moonlight.

I sense a pattern in my days.
I see symmetry that aches my bones.
The distance between two points.
makes me wish for a straight line.

Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

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