Hearing your thoughts
To only breathe you in like a novel concluding sigh–
morning air– a clear breath after congested years.
Hearing your thoughts at day’s end,
for months,
hearing your thoughts at week’s end,
four months, it’s agonizing.
I smell my hand after a citrus soap wash:
second-guessing I was holding you
and you just said goodbye, it’s agonizing.
Author Note: for anastasia grace
About the author
I live with my wife, an artist, in Indianapolis. Besides poetry, I like to take photographs, read books, travel overseas, and listen to news/political podcasts, college lectures and classic literature. You can read about my approach to poetry on my poetics page. To stay in touch, follow me on Twitter or connect on a variety of other social networks.
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