In my corners
my fingers write you
into my life, so you're not
really gone.
When sleep plays coy, I
draw you out,
eye by eye,
lip by lip, love by love.
I love the way I write you
to actually sit with me
on the bed, so I may touch you with
both of my hands again.
I finally learn for myself that love
may just go on after bodies end,
making it really love,
making it really too late.
YOU ARE READING
SUNSHOWERS
Non-FictionA book of poetry. A book of tears. A book of blood and sweat, too. A book to hold me. Will you let it hold me?
