it doesn't

i'd like to hug you
hear your voice
see your smile...

my words for you
often get caught in my throat
only now they're not made of lemon juice and vinegar
instead it's like
a not-quite-sweet-enough wine or
an unripe slice of peach;
...the flavor of missing you.

our laughter eludes me.
i cannot remember
what your hands were like,
or your mouth.
yet somewhere
deep in the pit of my stomach
i remember
i feel
i know
there was more
to us...

as i blossom,
i seem to need you a little less
but i never seem to
run out of love. 

the love that rained and dripped and spilled
down those steps
in that bed
on that street
along that hallway
by that window

it etched you
into my soul

your cree sings heartsongs
to my chickasaw

we are still

but we've replaced the
long nights and
wrenching conversations and
passive aggressive arguments and
unrequited magnetism
with something softer
if not sweeter...

we've given our unity
to the universe
and she's used its strength
to hold up the world a little while longer.

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