I miss the way our feet curled up together,
listening to the submarines under the bridge
late at night, your body close to mine, your
heat close to mine.

I miss the dance we got caught up in at the
park on the river, with our harmonies blend-
ing and bending, the jingles on your dress
cupping my ears.

I miss the year we cast fishing rods in the
blue salty ocean, and licked the crystals from
the poles when they’d dried, and you tasted
like the sunshine.

I miss the pressure of your knuckles on my hip
bone and the soft inner lining of your fav-
orite jacket where my hands always managed
to slide, shy.

I miss feeling my adrenaline streaking naked
through my veins whenever you approached
me from behind, that split-second startle skin-
ing me alive.

I miss the tears that slid gently from the corn-
ers of my almond-shaped eyes, and the way
those tears spoke of sobs without any words
at all, none.

I miss feeling the way I felt about you because
now I am empty, and the void where you used
to live only marks a time in my dusty past, a
shell of a memory.