hibernation: poems by colleen cosette goodman

only one

I have written her too many poems; I have thought about her too long; I have missed her too much, and I do not think she thinks of me.
I do not think many have written about it, but so it goes. For once I want someone to love me vividly and vivaciously; I want someone to write about my hair, my laugh, how I smell, how I look, but I think the only one who can do that is me.