Monday, January 6, 2014

Abyss - 01/06/14

I miss the
idea
of you.
The possibility
of a text,
the hope
of a touch.
I miss open doors
and windows
more than
half-drunk conversation
from half
of us.
I miss "if,"
not swallowed in
a gaping hole
that leads
but one way:
down.

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