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.