i miss you.

in all those lines i have written to you, I breathed in my ‘i love you’s between those lines. i’m flawed and i haven’t found the right words to say, but i’m neatly tucking them all in an envelop, my all those disorganized ‘i love you’s…..

questions blooming like flowers on my fingertips and my heart keeps racking up these frequent flyer miles to your heart, and i keep biting my lip so hard that it turned raw. i tried to bury my sadness among my ribs; curse word prayers manipulating truth and remembering how to say ‘yes’. it would be a valentine’s day when i see you again as i await to whisper hello; ghosting the ache of space between us, and waiting to tell you my love stories as war anecdotes while holding you so close i could crawl inside your skin, and deep into your bones, and i will be happy.

but here in the gaping spaces that separate each of my fingers, there’s potential. in the crook of my neck and in the soft swell of my breasts and in the glistening pout of my lips and in the curve of my hips there’s potential. and there’s a soft promise across my collarbones that one day some one would kiss my words, touch my lips to music notes and memorize my body like a cartographer, so i should really stop wishing for it and just wait… to hold hands with you like old friends. it’s so easy to feel lonely and unlovable in gray winter times but here’s a potential too to find beauty in my solitude.

i wish i were seeing you tomorrow or that we made some plans. i wish you to be my valentine or that you were mine.

but this is all a secret.

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