It might be trite when I say
…I miss you.
Even though I do
…all the time.

And when I am feeling ill –
being alone amplifies the pain.

I believe the cure is easy.
Wrap me in your arms.

Be my muffler.

For I suspect,
when your body is next to mine
all those vile pains
will drown in happy noise.

A soft, gentle
…purrrrrr
that retunes my out of whack biology.

Or perhaps, my magnetic poles
recalibrate; one’s and zero’s,
flipping on or off.
An odd electronegativity.

I don’t know,
maybe there is some other magic at work.

Yes, it seems
when I am sick
my everything misses you
the most.


© 2006 Sara Coslett


Image courtesy of: http://pweb.netcom.com/~mthorn/satbot00.htm