Untitled Poem

I miss what seemed to be an intuitive caress
through it, I could know you
I learned you, like a song I can now play without looking at the notes
Without looking at the keys
I memorized you, so I would need no photo to mime the crevasses of your face
I was you, for a while, so close we didn’t need to speak at all
Every morning since I left you, I pretended I haven’t
Every day you didn’t write, I made excuses for you
Every moment you didn’t call, I waited
The agony of missing you pressing on my frontal lobe
I felt an aneurism coming on
But with one letter
Barely more than a syllable
You rip my heart into even more than two
Many more than two pieces
I take a break before reading it again
Making sure you meant what I thought you meant
Making sure you weren’t just baiting me
Do I write to you?
Do I acknowledge what you have so fleetingly mentioned
As if you thought I wouldn’t mind at all.


May/June 2009