Thinking of you (with total sincerity)

You eat at me like the mumbled words you say in passing. Is that fear I smell or have I just completely gone insane?

Your smile cuts my heart in half; one fourth laid on the table to be consumed by passing worms and flies, another taken with you like the wind—gone.

Gone, you’re gone. I remain. Not the “I” that you know so well, but the “I” that took those pieces back and stitched them like a patch on a backpack and made something that’s seams are so flawless yet especially defined.

Enjoy thinking of me. I certainly don’t when I think of you.