>I can’t say i miss you
every single minute of my day.
there are times, i forget how
you smell and feel bad about it.
but in moments like now,
it feels like part of my heart is being
painted on with the same window colors
you painted your snowboard with.
It leans a bit lonely against the mirror
in your room (so do i).
wide heart-sections also
seem to be covered with those
tiny tesserae, you glued
to the small table
(they make it so uneven)
and when I pull out the old
magazines from below your couch
and find half of the pictures are
cut out, newly arranged and used as
school book covers, i start to see
what may have happened to me.
and i wonder if i’ll find tiny pieces
of my heart, taken away, re-arranged to
new patterns & scattered across the globe.
they may seem out of context
(just as i feel right now)
and glue is sticking to them but
most probably, they are beautifully
arranged; and next to the glue i know,
i’ll find love stains.
was my daughter’s birthday and as she’s in La Paz for a year, we’ll only have a remote celebration via skype..
linking up with emily’s imperfect prose…