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I’m not supposed to say, but missing you is living in a constant
night without stars. I want to feel what it’s like to eat together,
to wake next to you, not even to make love or touch but simply
feel the warmth of you. What is it like to watch you dress with
that slow smile you give me and the knowing flutter of lashes
as you pretend you’re not teasing me. I imagine you, a young
girl, knees scabbed from keeping up with the boys. Imagine
there is no distance, no rules to consider, no wicked gravity
that pulls us together even as it rends us apart. This morning
the full moon hangs high, round and full, weighted with light.
You’re under the same moon, cooking for a friend, cleaning
as you go talking of books, gardens, the poetics of tragedy
and I feel you thinking of me. Later, you call and my mailbox
is full. I know what you’d say and what would remain unsaid,
and yes, I love you too.
by Alex Stolis
Editor’s Note: The delicacy of this poem’s imagery delivers an ache of longing to the reader that shows how love lingers even in the spaces where it is not.
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