how many times do I have to say
I miss you until it becomes poetry

how many since it mattered

how do I tell you I haven't let
anyone touch me since you
because as long as your hands
remain the last
you still exist here somehow
how do I tell you that doesn't even
begin to describe it
how do I tell you all the places you
touched me still sing
like a phantom limb

how many days did it take
for your mother to ask about me
if I'm ever coming back again
what happened to me
what happened to us
what did you tell her
and how bad did it hurt to say aloud

how do I tell you even the simplest
things are crippling without you
how breathing is wasteful
when there's no other lips to taste it
how badly my body has pined for
yours again

how cruel must you have been
to make me want like a child
to lead me senseless
to the brink of everything
I ever wanted
to lead me giggling and trembling
touching your face
and to leave me here alone
without a warning
heaven was not heaven when I
entered it alone
all this love I have to give
is shot to hell if I can't give it to you

so how many times
do I have to say I miss you
until it becomes poetry?
because I'll do it
I'll do it and do it until it matters
to you