what is it to miss?

is it to sink in
imagined traps
like quicksand
or tar pits?

i can feel the
pulse of artery
inside my ears,
it speeds
when focus is lost
and thoughts return
to almost-forgotten
fragrances, and
awkward night moves.

i long for you
like MSG,
like toblerones at christmas,
like the aging
wish for breath
clear of wheeze
and joints free
of limitation,
like an addict
yearns not for drug
but respite,

like you
used to long for me.