There Are No Simple Things

the simple things I miss
running fingers through your hair
down the nape of your neck
pressing my palm to your cheek
finger tips, sucking lips
stubble
the taste of cigarettes
your breath filling the night
the weight of your form
I would fall to the floor
cover your feet with my head
wrap my arms around ankles
gulp down a river of tears
to just go back to
a time before things got sticky
but that is not where I need to be
that is not where we belong
it was just a moment
clinging in my tricky mind

by Lindz Williamson

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