I miss you. Not consistently or predictably, or now,- but sometimes, in somewheres, as I walk amongst my daily wears, it strikes me and it rifes me; and it guts me through the heart- that I have to survive away from you, and that we have to live apart. I know not how nor why nor when nor why, but simply that my heart beats surely for you- for your heart and your hands, and for my heart in your hands. And to hold your hand, inside mine, and to keep you inside, my embrace And for all the worlds that I would not trade, to be deprived of your grace,- for a single day. |