Friday, November 6, 2015

Missing You

Which words should I borrow?
Which letters should I use?
How do I turn them all into
something that can make
you feel what I feel every time 
thoughts of you come creeping in?
Like a needle stuck on
a sand-filled cushion.
A sensation I thought 
that I could just ignore.
But whenever the wind suddenly
breezes in through the window,
it too tugs the thread
that was cut off long ago,
but still tightly wounded through the hole.

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