lying on your belly, only way to get
the pressure just right. And know
your face and eyes on your first
plane ride, you told me what each
sound was - 'that's the landing gear.'
Even now, I can feel your hair,
thin and long and painfully straight,
and how you brushed it, right hand,
ripping through it fast, and know
how you want held when you cry.
Yet, I will never know your kiss,
or how your tattoos taste, or feel
(each one I have memorized)
many made with me beside, chatting.
Never wanted to know how much I love you,
but I am glad to know I can love.
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