longing
dear [ ]:
it tingles a little,
what isn't there.
and i reach out to,
and i still try to,
stroke, hold, scratch
but there is nothing
to catch but air where
your body once was
warm, giving me chills
as empty sheets move
like ghosts to the
rhythm of my long
-ing sighs.
love,
JANEisnotplain 03312013
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