The History of Love

I’m looking for you
you’re lost
i’m searching and searching

trying to find a lingering bit of your scent in the
feathers in the brown down of my pillow
where your spine rests
from time to ticking time
you’re there and I miss you
fiercely and for heavy hours of the night

It’s funny
[he laughs]
I never know when I’ve lost you
when you’re gone
poofed
vanished
into the pages and numbers and
numbers and pages of so many different
places that I hide you

now you’re here
resting in my hands
whispering your soft sweet story to me

and I have never known such a feeling as this
this
this thin moment where time has folded over on itself:

I am thirteen laying on my bed hearing the last of your
plot-twist tale
I am twenty-one hearing the beginning of your clever string
of attention-hooking clauses

and still to this day there is something beautiful
innocent
untainted by time
inside your pages

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