Monday, February 18, 2013

Angel's gift.

I still search for you
In words.
In steps.
In opinions and characters.
I look under shirts.
In the teeth as lips part.
I with no shame at all, search
Like a its customs and you're contraband.

I claim not to bother. I say it makes sense. You're with another. She lives in there with you, your pod. You two belong together. I get that.

But my nails are long. And they love to claw. At dirt, searching...looking...hoping to find a golden beam like you. I still search for you. In every smile that comes my way. Hoping those hands that reach here have your prints. Hoping the words they speak are missing the perfect 'R's. I still search. In the tones. In corneas. In arms and in understanding. You become the epitome of a perfect being. Until I face that old reality. It fades in slowly. I remember. You were not 'it'. But you sure were damn near almost perfect. My closest yet.

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