Sometimes the sky seems as wide
And big as my sadness.
Sometimes I wonder how it was Permissible for you to step out,
While I was stored within a moment.
Sometimes I wish I was something else,
Less than my cobbled wheezy-sided,
Indulgent, obsessive false-comparison self,
And that’s just the better half
Of my kernel. On the other side,
A spider’s on my eyelids;
A paperweight, a floating shelf.
If I was a god of kindness,
By degrees I doubt it would help,
I’d be a god of putting things off
Instead, and drinking tea,
A god of missing you,
The goddess of missing me.
How can I follow my love’s path,
When there is no path to see.