Amy Carr

Just hug me
And tell me you
Love me.
Please.
...

It will be strange,
walking down these streets
without you.
But since you left –
...

I frantically try to scribe it
before I forget how
you felt beside me.
But the body's
...

It’s raining…

I remember always thinking of you
When it rained
...

I listen to the sound
Of you shuffling cards
In time to the clock
Above your head.
...

For one
whole month
he and
I were
...

As we sat there together
more words fell
from his mouth—
and with each one
...

No words for you.
Not now.
Not yet.
...

It’s with
your indecision

that you
...

The streets have a
wonderfully awkward
feel at six a.m.
as though something were
...

Between now and
when I last held you
lies a gulf of your absence
as painful as the fear of
...

The apartment door closes – creak and thud.

A key turns in the lock, drowning a whimper
I didn’t know I was making.
...

They sneak in through the back corners of your mind
when attention is diverted elsewhere, usually
in those beautiful shared moments –
curled up on the couch in the crook of his arm like a cat,
...

I tried once to describe your eyes to someone.
And instead of telling them what I see when I look at you,
I found myself, for the first time in a very long time,
completely without words, a breath caught in my throat
...

As I nestle myself into the
Oversized seat of you car,
I wonder what you're thinking.
And you look at me blankly
...

He is hurting.
I can tell –
I can feel it
when I think of him
...

and my breath is taken away
as I swoon in your energy,
...

My mind goes blank when I think of you
these days.
Where there were once fanfares of adoration and praise,
Is only a drowning buzz, like a dial tone
...

This morning—
probably around 7am—
I rolled over
expecting to find
...

Pen on paper.

But nothing more.
...