your curving lips
send electricity d
                         o
                       w
                     n
                    my spine. it hurts
                    my mind like my
                    throat burns with
                    wine. why? your
                    smile is not mine.
                    i
           am
fine.
i just miss it: the
way your smile
made me shine
                          &
                          how we would
                          inevitably lose
                          track of time. i
                          wish we could
                          say that quiet
                          means sublime.
                   instead,
the silence is a
sign that we'll
never turn out
fine.