Small Hands

Miss you terribly, already

Miss the space between your eyelids

Where I'd stare through awkward sentences

And avoid through awkward silence

Miss your teeth when they chatter

When we smoked out in my garden

When we couldn't sleep for all the heat

Soft talk began to harden

Miss your small hands in the palm of mine

The fact they're good at making

Miss your sitting up incessantly

And the fact you're always wakin' in the night, night

And I

I hope for your life

You forget about mine

Forget about mine

Miss your teeth dug in my shoulder

As we rolled in early morning

Miss your arm dying beneath me

As I lay there, simply yawning

Please forget me, you were right, dear

I am cold and self-involved

And though I'll miss you, recent lover

I am weak, and therefore fooled

Get distracted by my music

Think of nothing else but art

I'll write my loneliness in poems

If I can just think how to start

Dot my i's with eyebrow pencils

Close my eyelids, hide my eyes

I'll be idled in my ideals

Think of nothing else but I

I, and I

And I

I hope for your life

You can forget about mine

Just forget about mine

Oh, mine

Mine