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I still miss you

And the way that you laughed,

Rarely. And how I would try to make you laugh

Because I loved to hear it.

You would always smile,

But your laugh was a rarity.

I still miss you,

And your scarred hands

With the gangly fingers.

I miss searching them for new cuts,

And teasingly scolding you

For being careless.

I still miss you

And your beautiful hair.

Running my fingers through

In the opposite direction

To that in which they grew,

Feeling them resist

And then finally give way to intrusive fingers.

I still miss you.

I still miss you

And the sound of your voice

Lulling me to sleep each night,

Or more often the other way around,

Hearing you snore over the phone.

It still hurts that two months have gone by

And we haven't spoken.

What is that I hear in the silence?

Is it pride? Pain?

I wonder if you don't miss me.

Whether or not you do,

I still miss you.

I don't know why I wrote this, much less why I'm posting it. I'll probably take it down soon. I guess it just needed to be said.
Gale-OneOfMany Featured By Owner Mar 8, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I understand these feelings immensely. Nice piece.
iMariposa Featured By Owner Mar 8, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks Sweating a little... I'm glad you understand
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Submitted on
March 8, 2014
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