Squeezing you in 

when I’m not thinking about anything at all,

is when I think of you.

tied to my heartbeat, I can hear you thunk and thud in my chest.

Maybe you’re not the person you were,

when I first really looked at you, the first time I saw you like a dying man sees another sunrise and a wolf sees the moon.

In a different life,

maybe I wouldn’t notice you, slide my eyes over, silk over skin.

But I know if I heard your voice or held your hand

I would recognize you in the way I can understand poetry in a language I don’t speak,

maybe not with my eyes but with my soul and maybe that’s more important.

 I wonder if there’s an expiration date on the sweet slicing I can feel inside my ribs,

if I’ll ever stop putting you in my prayers, somewhere towards the end but,

god knows the right order anyways.

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