Third floor closed, and the elevator's shut down, my heart breaks on the third floor as I know now that you've never left. You keep me safe on the third floor but the buttons won't work and the carrier won't move. I write about you and I know you read my poetry, I trace your name in every line, and now you see...for the third floor is my home and I love it just fine, for it is where you are, upon the carriers that never glide.
YOU ARE READING
in your absence
PoetryPerhaps I love you too little, because there is still so much you don't understand...for I crave touch, just not from your hands.
