There have been so many times I’ve sat and talked to you, so many times I have taken you into my bed, my body and my soul…

…and there are noises clouding what I see…and yet you’re here, but not with me.

I’ve brought you into this existence, created every shape and sound, your hands, your eyes…the way you look at me. And I still miss him. Never enough. Never settled into my thoughts. I just create again, harder, more, better. Still not enough. Grief.

so I take you into my bed, my mind, my life. I wipe your brow clean from the strife. Confronted with my image, I don’t like what I see. I trade your smile for nativity. For believing in me. For losing yourself so many times in my words. For me not regretting you. OR what I did. Or what I do.

So many times I’ve taken you into my heart, my bed, my body. So many times I’ve kindled sun into your eyes…and always…always…you remain incomplete. But you remain next to me. In my bed, my eyes, my smile. Grief.


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