The 6th Summer

My full size bed 
should feel so much emptier,
more spacious
with the distance between us.
I should be missing everything 
about your lips.
They way they they tasted,
they way the looked, 
the way they revealed your pearly whites
whenever you gave me
your perfect, entrancing smile.
I should want you here,
next to me.
Whether it’s in the passenger seat
watching me sing and dance along
to Earth, Wind, and Fire
or sitting in the seat next to me
at AMC watching Jay Gatsby
throw the biggest party....
I should want you here.
I should miss your dyed hair,
the way it shone 
in the summer's sun,
and 
the flowery, sweet fragrance it had
after I waited so long for you
to get out of the shower.
I should miss 
the simplicity of walks in the park,
hand in hand, wondering
what kind of lunch or dinner to eat.
Your bright brown eyes,
should keep me captivated.
They should hold me down and
charm me 
into a state of weakness.
When the tears puff your eyes,
when the laughter makes you squint,
I should feel nothing but the drop of a heart 
in my warm chest.
I should be dying to know
what you're up to
in your new, Southern home.
I should be begging you
to remain East Coast girl
I should be drowning right now.
Drowning in a pool of thoughts
of you, of me,
of you and me. 

It's not about discovering
where our feelings can take us,
what they can bring out of us, 
or the limits of our love.
I don't think anyone knows 
how difficult it is
to figure out, to sort,
to organize, to arrange
an array of emotions 
from nearly 1,000 miles away.
Everything we have
is now left hanging in a closet
like a shirt wanting to be worn again. 
Only God knows
when that shirt will have to be put on,
again. 

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