You Ask How I Know I Still Love You
I know because I went out to buy dinner today,
a sandwich from the place on Bull -
I was walking back and was struck by how silent
the street was. Green spilled
over the fences, building a canopy
stirred by the warm breeze. It smelled
like Jasmine and the sea and all I could think
was that I wanted to tell you about it.
I wanted to call you to fill the space between us
with my words, impress my little bit of the world
into your mind.
I’d start by describing the light. You always were a part of it,
and the light in this moment was made for you.
It was warm and felt like home.
I was sad to feel the green heat on my skin
from the canopy and the wind off the sea,
sad to breathe that air because all of it felt like you.
And when I breathed it back out it would be me.
Just me, standing under the green summer light,
with the empty space at my side that is always there.
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