After reading about phantom limbs


        your body absent
        is like a numbness;
        I go to touch you and

        my finger beneath your chin hedging finality

        but when seeing you again seems to assuage the loss,
        The emptiness in the pit of me still seems to be there

        For you know nothing.
        Nothing of this capacity to love
        Nothing of this faith that seems to be okay without afterlife,
        Without the rapturous bliss
        Only wanting

        And it doesn’t get any better than this even with god
        It doesn’t get any better than this

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