These three words,
For which we wait a lifetime,
I have never given nor received.
To me they are an old book,
Left forgotten on a shelf,
And you know not when you got it
Nor the last time
You opened it.
It’s unfamiliarity
Makes it impossible to utter.
Today I do
Tomorrow, maybe.
I miss the weight
of your head on my stomach,
Or mine on yours,
Our bodies perpendicular.
The sound of hitched
Breath - mine or yours
I cannot tell
And the feel of fingers
Combing through hair.
I trace circles
On delicate skin
And you spider fingers
Across my cheeks and lips.
Today I miss you.
Tomorrow I will too.
Forever I love you.
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