Bea Miller - Small Hands

Miss you terribly already, Miss the space between your eyelids, where I’d stare through awkward sentences and avoid through awkward silence Miss your teeth when they chatter, when we smoked out in my garden When we couldn’t sleep for all the heat, soft talk began to harden. Miss your small hands in the palm of mine The fact they’re good at making, Miss your sitting up incessantly, And the fact you’re always waking in the night, night. And I, I hope for your life You forget about mine Forget about mine Miss your teeth dug in my shoulder, as we rolled in early morning, Miss your arm dying beneath me, as I lay there simply yawning Please forget me, you were right dear, I am cold and self-involved, And though I’ll miss you, recent lover I am weak and therefore fold Get distracted by my music, think of nothing else but art I’ll write my loneliness in poems, If I can just think how to start Dot my i’s with eyebrow pencils, Close my eyelids, hide my eyes, I’ll be idle in my ideals, think of nothing else but I. I, an