Box of Blue Crayons

Still

My only real option is to keep loving you the way I have
not regretting it and hopefully not letting this rotting
feeling I always seem to have in the pit of my stomach
eat me alive.
Mostly I’m just looking to tell you that all these years
these moments apart have been insufferable tirades
of the worst sort.
I loom in the dark and keep my cold skull buried in
sheets —hoping to smell the sweat of you again.
Praying to never be touched the way you have me.
Looking over out the window to see your reflection in
my mind.
But you are not there.
There is no real you out in my sky.
There is no presence ever so loud
as the lack of you.
The missing piece of me walking around somewhere
living and breathing…
maybe taking a lover once in a blue moon.
But never in the pane of my sill
Never crouched in the nook will
I find you. Wearing white panties and a crooked
grin
Never will I find you here.
On the outside of my
within.