A Prose Poem (Pt. 2)
I wish I could hold
that baby behind me
in the grocery store checkout.
I wish I could keep
the poem you typed up
on your typewriter for me
that you lost on our first
meeting.
I wish you could grasp
the soft embers
that glow beneath my cold cheeks
whenever you say
"ace".
Sometimes
if the modd discovers my cowering,
I wish you could hold me
and whisper.
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