Monday, November 3, 2008

01st November

A new morning,
the dawn awake;
a new day,
scrubbed clean and fresh and scoured
like a bath
waiting to be filled with water; reading
Martin Luther King's "Strength to Love"
and thinking
of you
regularly,
as I ought to,
wishing you were here,
your flesh soft and warm and slack
beside me.

Does absence
make the heart grow fonder?
i don't think so.
Absence just brings a sense of loss,
of someone missing, a lack;
that last piece of the jigsaw
that you search for
in the box
but cannot find.

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