There is no use
denying it, beloved,
all who know me
know the truth is plain:
I cannot live
without the taste
of you
on my lips-
the more
of you
I have,
the more I need,
and,
once inhaled,
you do more
to stir my senses
than any other
I have ever known.
I am forever
waiting
for our next embrace,
my darling.
My every morning’s thought
is of only
you.
They should be a metaphor:
the gold coins
tucked into a brown paper bag
like Chinese takeout
or a field trip lunch.
They should be a metaphor:
something about
the weight of your love,
or a legacy passed down,
or even, perhaps, a lesson
about the frailty of life.
They should be a metaphor:
about the best
things in life coming free,
or not free at all, or perhaps
never coming until you
have already moved on.
I just can’t help thinking,
a life without you
makes as much sense
as a brown paper bag
full of gold coins.
But this isn’t a metaphor.
