Do you ******* miss me
Or
Do you miss ******* me?

The evening is bathed in red
wine. Her touch complimented
by a hearty meal.  

Under an avalanche of years
lie dazed memories
perfectly frozen.

I walk between mountains,
their stone-faces
giving me the cold shoulder.

I have come to love
these walls. Though beautiful
I am still entrapped.

The stars. I know the stars.
Orion blandly glitters
without your presence.

I once read
that indifference was the least I had to dread.
But if you my dear  

Played out my fear
And treated me without hate
or love. I think I’d stay

Between those which
separate
Us.

I’m a hunter.
My eyes locked on
you.
Precision.
Gentle contact, a coy smile.
Unoblivious of your desired stares.
The manufactured
moments you believe are real.
That look and I know you’re
Mine.
Part of me
believes you’re the
one.
That I’ll finally fall,
head first over heels.
Then we kiss and it’s gone.
Then it gets hotter and I resent you.
I’m a hunter.
An apex predator.
Your hatred wounds me but I’ll take your heart as my reward.
My bleeding trophy.
I wish
it wasn’t like this.
I wish
I could consume
all of you
Or none of you.  
But love is oh so bitter
And the chase is oh so sweet.

I cut
the purple thread.
The one you wrapped around my wrist.
All that while ago.
And now I’ve untied myself there are
No more strings attached.

How long will I lie
awake? Mouth shut. Eyes open.
When was I left here?

I broke
a mirror, when we first met.
Our guilty reflections
fragmented
as we stared into the shards.

Barely a decade old,
but in my eyes you’d never be a perfect ten.
Back then you were
A pigtail pulling, cootie carrying boy,
A pigtail pulling, cootie carrying friend.

Two years passed then we were
split apart. Like crevices
between
reflective pieces. Another five and I saw
You.
In a mirror now fixed. Your reflection
the same, different.

Seven years. Spent growing up
apart. Yet growing closer.
Now
when you grab me, my hair. I scream
for the right reasons .
And holding hands isn’t just for
arm wrestling.

Shards of bad luck are swept up
into a metaphorical dustbin.

A bullet whistles past
a polish jew.
He escapes
his hostile habitat
and disguises his name.

A woman faints at the gore
of her future career.
As she falls,
a handsome figure catches her eye
along with her body.

So close
yet almost so far.
Strange how so many
near misses
lead to entire existences.