Today, Love: An Anthology of Self

472.5

i miss beach breezes on long night walks,

and silly dancing against the wind, friends with the wind

on tiptoe adventures trying not to laugh.

i miss consignment shops and old books,

the fragile pages because they smell like us—

like baguettes and sea water and damp ground.

i miss zero miles from my pen to yours.

i miss having time worth collecting.

i miss rain painting and forming "i remember"s

and talking and talking and talking and talking

and silence that just says, "i don't want to leave you,

ever."