the pavement is slick beneath endless sheets of rain
shy stars are grateful for thick clouds and
I am looking out my window
at 11
I miss you
all the schools are closed
the night is happening outside
something in me is in progress, too
I miss you
what is exhumed from all that I remember
sits idly in the worn treads of my mind
crack me open and some ancient happiness is found
I miss you
but which is the you that I miss
[it takes vigilance to not idealize someone beyond recognition
when you are clawing at the falling of your love]
is it the you that Can’t Try for This, the you that is Pretty Different From Me
please show yourself
I miss something in the shape of you
I miss your shape and parts of the you that constitute it
I miss being under you and
I miss being over you
I am far away and next to you
wishing you to fill out within yourself like a rising tide
and now you are under me
and you recede from my surging forward
so that I chase you even when I am with you
so that I am tired
I am so tired
god this is so good
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