Out of touch

P1070642-Edit-EditYour temporary absence
reminds me of others.

I hold it in the
Muscles of my arms,

Upper and fore, and
Across my chest.

My hands shape
A lack of you.

Of my other absences,
Some are final.

Still others, simply
Fallen out of touch.

Out of contact. So,
I dream them well.

In holding your absence,
I weigh the rest.

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About stevedsmart

Steve Smart is an information designer, poet and artist. View all posts by stevedsmart

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