I keep the memory of your voice
like some people carry snapshots
in their wallets or
put pictures on the wall or
in frames next to their beds.
It is there,
after a long day of missing you,
ready to make me smile as only you could.
I keep the feel of your hands
like some people hold onto old clothes-
worn with age,
but soft in the places that demand it.
It is there,
on the back of my neck,
squeezing all the love you possess
into me.
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