so was our touch half as sacred as i made it seem,
or just another fabrication of a half-dream?*
                                          -- The Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit, La Dispute

i miss you. the way you looked at me
so tenderly, when all i could
do was slam against you

and life. i've been known to make things
up in my head, to make them mean more
than they do in reality.

but i swear this was real.
it was a pounding in my
chest, it was a razor on my

wrist. now it's words i never said,
but wished i could.
i miss you like a thorn

in my side that held me
together, moment to moment,
heartbeat to heartbeat.

i just miss you.