dust

sometimes i miss
your textified blush,
the way you held
my hand without
ever
really
touching it.

other days, i'm less forgiving.
i clean
things that have
to do
with you,
lessen my load
and wipe up the dust.

if you're still
having fun
i wish you hell
and if you're tired
or sick,
i've got a loaf of bread
that might do you well.

you make me use
words
i'd never think of saying
not even typing,
so i won't,
i'll suck them in.
and my belly will grow,
my aches will show,
but i'll remember
the dust you let fall on me.