Poetry: Day 559


i am used to my space
my head space
the physicality
putting and leaving
and rearranging my thoughts
forgetting to stack clothes
in a neat pile for the next day

but with you here
everything was different

i was conscious
of folded piles
and unspoken thoughts
and every way we could go wrong

i was so conscious of you
i thought i couldn’t breathe
but i am
and i do
and i miss the noise
and the comfort of you

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