Passing Aisles

Sometimes, it hurts inside

Like bones breaking idly;

I want the pain to stop in me.


Sometimes, I miss her so heavy

The weight takes my breath away.


Sometimes, your shadow hits walls;

Your outline overlooking me.


Sometimes, for what it’s worth,

I miss kissing you—not on the lips,

But next to them, in that soft pocket

Under your cheek bone.


Sometimes, I wish I would have told you that;

It wouldn’t have mattered, in the long run, but

I would have felt better knowing I nestled

That sentiment into your ear.



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