Spine, Sparks, Blossom, Moonless

I sit in bed and I wonder what you are doing.
Are you sitting on your windowpane?
T-shirt pulled over your knees,
the hard knobs of your spine
knocking against your milk skin.
I wonder if you too are staring into the moonless night
watching the trees dance?
Have you noticed the change in seasons
since we’ve last spoken?
How Winter has seceded to Spring
and every blossoming daisy 
only serve to mark the distance
between now and then?
I wonder.
Did you know?
That our last time would be the last?
No sparks, no fire
just mouths and tongues?

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