Only The Body Moves On
I think of you quite often,|
as I make it though my days.
Your words are like an overcoat
and your heartsong simply stays.
I see you walking ‘cross my mind,
leaving footprints and your scent.
You look back and smile at me,
then I wonder where you went.
The not knowing could be maddening
considering I’ve loved you for ages.
Having to conjure you up in my heart,
it’s like a book with torn pages.
I feel the tender warmth of your skin
and inhale the sweetness of your breath.
Your lips on mine could make me swoon,
losing all my fear of death.
I think of the unit we once were,
that could face anything like a team.
Now I must engage these things alone,
you’re only an image in a dream.
I think of you quite often,
as a tear wells up in my eye.
The past is the past, ‘tis a shame,
you’re a part of days gone by.
Submitted for the 'It's like a book with torn pages' challenge
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