Patients

To think you’re there alone
while I am busy with nonsense,
makes me sick beyond belief,
two months of lack of freedom.

It’s unlikely I’ll ever come up
with the letters that connect to
the ever increasing pain I feel
when we are distant.

You are my rock, my baby,
my love, my heart. I miss you
every day, when we’re together,
when we’re apart, I miss you.

And it’s endless, I know,
because I feel it endlessly.
A unique idea because I had
not loved until I loved you.

We are patients of patience
and it is painful, it is.
And “I miss you”
lacks adhesive, I know.