My body sends you letters

I miss you. From the rumble inside my gut I miss you. From the wince and gasping ache for your heat, I miss you. From between my tendons, from the twitch of my muscle, from the creak of my aging bones, I miss you. From the soft dark of my hot heart, the steady rise and fall of my chest, my brave ribs hold a trembling.

I miss you, blinded by your absence, annulled by the distance which imitates widowhood. From the wide arc of empty arms. From the indiscernible throb between my legs, from the husk of my late morning sigh. From my hair silvery with untouching, I miss you.

Words echo with intangibility. But my body sends you love letters.

Image: Gregory Colbert

3 thoughts on “My body sends you letters

  1. The soul writes to itself
    Wanting to read what it wants to read.
    But scared of reading its wish,
    Knowing words could hurt it most.
    The body does not write anything
    It just quivers in pain,
    An ache that we know as longing,
    Wanting to be the name your soul recites.

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