I miss you like the desert misses the rain
Dry and cracking underneath the sun
that we both share.

I miss you like an alcoholic misses a drink
cold and refreshing in that dive
where we first met.

I miss you like a cactus misses a hug
Prickly and worn with arms outstretched
waiting for you to come home

I see you do the things
you do with a hidden grace
that burns the ineptitude
from my limbs like a match,
smoldering underneath
my lips like a whispered word.
Chasing pride and happiness
through my veins like a shot
of whiskey. Warm, embracing.
Fire scarring the fields of
neuroses from my mind.

I want to be the one
who holds your hand
all the time.
I want to be the one
who gets to call
you mine.

There's a grin
cracking across
your face like a burglar
into a safe. Swift
sure sentiment
that envelopes
your face.
Fingertips sliding
slowly down
my
open palm
clenching
close enough
to keep me
content.

I find myself
scribbling little
words onto paper
trying to find a way
to explain my thoughts
and idiosyncrasies
to you. The way I look
at you, and the way
I take your hands into
mine as they clench
the gearshift, just to be close
to you.

One doctor with a yellow number
Two pencil, writes notes on a paper clipped in a
Three-ring binder, scribble, scribble, scribble.
Four white walls suffocate me black.

Your legs are draped over mine,
eyes closed, smile slung
across your lips like the
make-up across your eyes,
chosen as carefully
as a ****** victim.

My fingers slide up
the side of your leg:
soft and smooth
like the words that
come out of my mouth
and pass into your ears.

Your breathing slows
to a pace comparable
to my own, and with
one arm wrapped
around your sleeping
frame, the other composing
lines on a laptop,
I know that I have found
my Aolde.