They say if you can't go one day
Without thinking about it, then it's
Love.
But I don't love cigarettes,
Or that day my Uncle died.
I was seven
And I wasn't sure why I cried
But my dad stayed silent.
And where was my sister in all this?
I don't love my phone
Or email. In fact
I don't love books and words,
Or the softest stroke and scratch
Of pen to paper.
So when they say that,
I do my best and think of you.