November 10th.

The paper felt cold to my touch 
and I felt the autumn chill of 
that Saturday morning run through 
my body again. And again. And again. 
I felt myself sitting and trying 
to remember your words and your eyes 
and your smile and the way I swore 
you looked at me. And there they were, 
in prose too happy for my liking, 
too happy for my heart’s worry. 
I could feel the tears forming 
as I told myself that was then, 
this is now.
These miles wrap around me 
like a blanket, but there is no one 
to share the warmth with. I wanted to 
rip the paper, forget that day, forget 
you - but interruptions by feelings 
too strong for a Wednesday afternoon 
found me again. And again. And again.
“That was then, this is �"
oh God, how I miss you.”