I see his name,
or imagine his voice,
always saying my love,
my darling . . .
Where does he hide
when I'm wishing?
He makes me foolish--
kissing in thoughts.
He'd never exist
in my tangible arms.
Can I just taste
him, and later
use a patch
of him?
Will he notice the paths
of my eyes pulling
me closer?
I'll keep asking
to avoid the ubiquitous
no.















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