It's broken: I learned
It hurts: I cry
Sitting in the Kazakh sunshine hungry for vitamin D in temperatures so cold outdoors they murder my spirit after dark. I remember you joking about my bird's nest haircut; taking the piss out my contemporary-hippy hairstyle.
I missed you today, similar to past days, yet time is
healing aloe on the brittle sunburn of a broken love.
The sound of your voice mocking the BBC- the voice of
gravitas; My head on your naked chest wondering how that irregular heartbeat of
yours kept you alive day by day, beat by beat.
The "I have diabetes" prelude before stuffing a
doublewide Bounty chocolate bar in your mouth.
Your muscled bum which you attributed to cycling in your
youth clad in black long johns firm and round to the touch.
The kind and caring things you did for me like lending me your flashlight for the dark descent to my apartment.
Neighbors: Lovers
Making fish finger sandwiches and your hallowed toaster:
giver of life to breakfast. You in the kitchen; me arms around your waist.
Laughter.
The warmth of your skin; your upbeat and humorous approach
to awkward situations; and your damn British accent.
It hurts: I cry
Sitting in the Kazakh sunshine hungry for vitamin D in temperatures so cold outdoors they murder my spirit after dark. I remember you joking about my bird's nest haircut; taking the piss out my contemporary-hippy hairstyle.
Neighbors: Lovers
I still miss you.
