Today, I miss you. I don't know you, but I do. I remember you, but I don't.
You've returned to me; I've returned to you. But we're apart.
I miss you.
I miss your outlook. I miss your impact - the forcefields with which you upend me - the spontaneity with which you school me.
I miss your sensual mystery - the intensity that builds, as it does, behind your skin.
I miss your beauty - half made by you, half by me.
I don't miss your absence; it's here - a present severing.
You teach me what I knew at the beginning. You draw me out of abstraction into something for which I have no words - something earthed from flesh and reverberations.
You've returned to me; I've returned to you. But we're apart.
I miss you.
I miss your outlook. I miss your impact - the forcefields with which you upend me - the spontaneity with which you school me.
I miss your sensual mystery - the intensity that builds, as it does, behind your skin.
I miss your beauty - half made by you, half by me.
I don't miss your absence; it's here - a present severing.
You teach me what I knew at the beginning. You draw me out of abstraction into something for which I have no words - something earthed from flesh and reverberations.
