Literature
Still
I want a world where, if I miss you hard enough, you will appear,
blasting your music,
singing your songs,
and smiling that contagious,
wide-beaming
grin.
In this world of mine, there's always tea
enough for two.
The gray,
grim days of winter pass
unnoticed outside my street-facing windows.
Each melting, fogging drop of sleet
hangs untouched until the dry,
bitter air wears it away.
Sometimes, in the stillness of a down moment,
I feel again that ragged,
empty hole
where you should be sitting,
curled up in a warm blanket,
laughing quietly to yourself over
some comment made
in passing
online.
I miss you hard in that moment.
But I guess not e