long distance relationship

to the city I’ve come to call mine

my photo

when i look at the poster of you on my wall,
bright-colored and flat,
with all of your prettiness and none of your presence—
i miss you

when i watch the videos of  people who are with you,
for better or for worse,
while i sit alone praying these aren’t divorce papers—
i miss you

when i hear your name from disembodied voices,
“the stats … the numbers…,”
like you’re a lab rat and not a choking child to weep over—
i miss you

when i smell your subway cologne and taste your streetside bagels and feel your skyscraper shadows kiss me, embrace me, set me free—
when i remember these things, i know
you miss me too

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