Yellow is just not as
bright as is used to be.
It’s a sort of murky
shade of trying and
‘almost-there’ type things.
The sound of her voice
used to be full of
everything. But I
don’t exactly hear it
anymore, just like
encouragements. I guess
I’m deaf to the taste of
cinnamon tea, too. Now,
I’m not like I used to be.
I’m a cheap version of
my previous ‘me’. And don’t bother
trying to brush my knee
like it will leave an indent
for weeks. I probably
won’t even notice,
dormant lover. Even before
when nestling my face
inside your embrace just so I
could smell what was missing
has never happened, now. |
Submission Name: Missing
