When I wake and find myself mad with missing you,
is that a form of craving?
I picture your infant self - you were so beautiful; everyone
said so; strangers would stop me at the mall, on the street,
everywhere - and it was always the same,
"Oh my, what a beauty - a girl, I guess, eh?"
Even though I'm all about gender-neutrality,
you were very fair, bald almost, and I got tired
of confirming that, yes, you were a lovely girl
Hence the bows, the pink outfits ...
Sometimes, my arms ache to hold you - often actually -
to not even hear your voice is almost beyond my ken
And the rest of it - this shunning thing you're doing -
I guess that too is beyond me.
At times I think I'm going unsane, that I'll never
get over this surreal period in my life.
It comes to me that it's your life also.
Do you feel the loss as keenly? Ever?
