chapter eleven

I've started to miss you Pieces of you The fleeting touches I've started to miss them again. This time, I'm not sure if I'll ever not miss them. You stay next to me with me in your arms but your eyes search for somebody else, something else. Do you need more? Or do you need less? Do you need me? Or do you need her?

What do you see when you look at me? Are you looking at me or are you looking at yourself in the mirror behind us? What do you want when you part your lips but never speak? What do you wish for when your eyes shine beneath me but you forget me the next minute? Do you see me? Or do you see another her? I've started to miss your touch, every second every minute. It's poisonous because what do you see when you look at me? Do you see me or do you see another her?