Dearest Jon,

I'm back.

Once again I remember your face and long for your touch when my mind 

s

i

n

k

s

to the depths reserved for sleep depreived nights.

I call these episodes 'what could have been fever dreams'

and I never have enough paper because

I'll. Always. Have. More. Questions?

Did you memorize the 'roots' poem-

the one you seemed to recite by heart the day I broke it?

Did you burn my art?

Do you think of me

when you see:

-parents and their babies?

-a sunset on the beach?

-the black insides of your eyelids when you try to sleep?

Do the memories of our

s                            s

  m                   e

        i          l         

and endless d r i v e s

keep you up

    sometimes?

Of course my mind only focuses on the good times. 

You live locked away on a pedestal inside my heart.

Why! Can't! I! Forget! About! You?

Do you ever think of me 

to

   pass

          the

                time?

Maybe?

Someday?

One last kiss? 

You wouldn't dare touch these heathen lips

if you knew of all the men who've since caressed these hips.

I'm sorry for even thinking about it.

I won't bother saying goodbye because we both know I'll be back

the next time

I can't sleep.

 

Love always,

Honeybear