I can feel you.
Sometimes when it's soft I sense you.
In the Polaroids I take on Sunday's
In a brew that plays, slippery through me
I miss you.
sometimes
like a child misses an old bear
Are you proud of me?
Does a skyward body look down enough to feel me?
Hear me?
I have never screamed for you
Kept my voice my rage at bay
Consider it a last gift
I only remember your fragments
As if your idea is more present than
your memory
~N
