i

I can’t tell you

how much I miss you

without tearing 
a few pages from your rib

ii
setting your eyes on fire 
begging you not to beg me 
kissing me whilst I try 
not to plant these memory seeds on your lips

iii
they grow into thorns 
piercing my life 
into a sore pink 
like watermelon flesh

iv**
you were born to be remembered , not missed

being missed means you eat up people’s memory space 
leaving them full of you 

but empty of now
and lost searching for a shadow of your smile