Fifty-four Miles Apart

missing you is an art,   my dear,   and I
have brushes aplenty,     paints in shades grey
as the day and blue as the night is long.
how long since we’ve held each other?     how long
since our lips have coupled like summer flares,
fireworks high and explosive as love
in higher atmospheres of trance,    passion
burning our loins and hearts and fueling
fires we stop,   drop,   and roll to quench   .  .  .   though
somehow this only heightens want and lust
and this thing between us these dozen days
growing and blooming from arduous sprout
to this burgeoning what-is,     this friendship
grown at odds,     stalk sturdy from fighting winds  . . .


2 thoughts on “Fifty-four Miles Apart

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