I think my body knows
that something is missing.
It feels like
late at night
when I’m in a crowded place
and either I feel like my head is filled with stars
and I draw so much joy from the friction of life around me
or I feel pressed and stifled and
an impulse to lay down and by slowly stepped-on out of existence—
it’s like that all the time.
where beautiful things have an even softer,
more beautiful warmth to them,
and sad things feel like
a small saw against the heartstrings.
and the anticipatory joy of life together
even the dull, overwhelming pain in my uterus
is more intense without you.
and loneliness is more cutting.
it feels like
someone hollowed me out
and my body doesn’t understand
this sudden absence.
in french you don’t say “i miss you”.
you are missing to me.
my body knows it
and it vibrates sometimes,
humming with your absence
hoping that you feel the resonance
on the other side of the world.