Did you miss me
when my hands learned your body
the way dervishes learn the turn,
slow, again and again,
until dizziness became faith?
Did you miss the way
I dried your back
as one wipes dew from a sacred stone,
the way I brushed your hair
like a blessing whispered into silence,
the way perfume rose from your neck
as if dawn itself had chosen you?
Did you miss
how desire never hurried,
how longing knelt,
how touch remembered God
before it remembered skin?
I ask you softly
not with the mouth,
but with the ache.
And you answer
Yes…
by God, yes.
I miss the ritual,
the nearness,
the way you vanished inside me
without leaving.
I miss it all.
And I miss you
as the soul misses its secret name.
Dec 12, 2025
Dec 12, 2025 at 9:36 PM UTC
Did you miss me
when my hands learned your body
the way dervishes learn the turn,
slow, again and again,
until dizziness became faith?
Did you miss the way
I dried your back
as one wipes dew from a sacred stone,
the way I brushed your hair
like a blessing whispered into silence,
the way perfume rose from your neck
as if dawn itself had chosen you?
Did you miss
how desire never hurried,
how longing knelt,
how touch remembered God
before it remembered skin?
I ask you softly
not with the mouth,
but with the ache.
And you answer
Yes…
by God, yes.
I miss the ritual,
the nearness,
the way you vanished inside me
without leaving.
I miss it all.
And I miss you
as the soul misses its secret name.
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