19.8.13

i want you to write me this poem:

 i love fists
 and call
 me

the cat, your special, i can purr to that.
whatever it is that draws me to you
still bruises because love is a strong hand
squeezing when we're apart

i love it when hands call
and yours is on the first ring,
call it: answering.

wish you were here
is playing on repeat
because they are
the words i need you to hear.

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