you are a hole through my lung.

sometimes i miss the way your
ribcage holds me close
to your heart
or the way moonlight sits
or slides
on the curve of your neck
the way tragedy slides
from raindrops
hitting people, innocent or not.
or the way your hands
are strong like thunder
or the look in your eye
like after the rain melts.

sometimes i miss the way you
seem to think i'm beautiful.

i know you're wrong
because i know that whispers burn
our tired eyelids like acid
thin and screaming.

sometimes i miss the way you
pretend you don't have the most
beautiful face in the world.