What I’m Thinking

I’m
missing those
things
that drive
Aphrodite
to the
ends of
her
wit. I’m
craving the
sounds
you
make
when toes
touch
toes,
and lips
grab and
bend like
oceans
following oceans.

I’m missing
your
hands
that cover
mine,
and
our bodies
that
press
hard
and rough
like the
time
we felt
the earth move,
but
realized
that
our
love was
just
too
much for
the
world
to handle.

I’m
missing waking
up
with
you, and
falling down
into
white
sheets,
strong-willed
and
waiting
for
the next
bodily
rotation.
Yes,
around midnight
I think.

See,
I’m
missing you
like
crazy does
to a
Tasmanian,
and the
best
part of this
equation
is
you
never left.

M.C. Davis

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