I miss the kiss, the cuddle, the squeeze that
told me the world didn’t matter, but I did.
I miss the way the world slipped by without notice,
the way reality meant nothing and mattered less.
I miss the casual way we dismissed the world, as
if it were an inconvenience we could easily avoid.
I miss the ease with which we could touch one another’s
souls with a glance, the way we melted our hearts.
I miss the way we ignored convention, leaving the
critiques on the cutting room floor where it belonged.
I miss the dismissal, the rejection of judgment of
two lovers whose attachment was “wrong” but so right.
I miss being willing to break the rules, yet so conscious
that rules guided us to places we’d better not play.
I miss the guilt, the painful acceptance that our struggle
cut decency into ribbons, leaving lives broken in the breeze.