It is pure, unadulterated hell
to remember your soft touch.
The way you laughed at my horrible jokes.
The kisses, the stars we watched,
the bus rides,
the music we both loved,
the songs we danced to together in your room.
It is all so hard, like walking on a wire that was fun before
but now my harness is gone and it's actually dangerous.
Thinking about you is a delicate disaster,
but I do it anyway.


(d.d.b)