i miss it
some days more
than others

the crackle like electrictiy
sparking
to life a neon tube
the thrum
of power

intangible
yet
making the hairs
on your arm stand

it isn’t just because
i
am alone
that i miss it

hell
i’ve
been in the death throes
of loves last days
and been totally alone
without knowing

i miss the little things

incidental contact
gentle touches
that send chills

long kisses
with no intent
except
long kisses

i have been single
long enough
every thing
has a hint
of need
of desperation

feels like everyone
is rushing
towards an ideal
that may not
exist

it is the flaws
that makes being in love so
breathtaking

her
stealing my favorite shirt
or hoodie

minor idiosyncrasies
that take time
to appreciate
to love
the cracks in the facade
that make the masterpiece
complete

i miss that
sometimes

i still
put the toilet seat down

so
i don’t need much
training
just someone
with the patience
to star in my words

and long kisses
can’t forget those

i am not the best
i know
but
i could be the best thing
to happen to you

and vice versa

so
if you’ve ever dreamt
of loving a poet
that is not all there
let me
draw a portrait of you
with my words
maybe
with my lips
down the curve of your spine