36

i want to live next to you, in a bed of flowers.
where have you been?
this feeling of your eyes on me have been gone for too long.

the crane out my window is still turning,
this time for someone else.
people on the street are still crawling along the sidewalk,
this time to somewhere else.

it's scary to think they're alive and all over me.

you know, these arms are not machines but flesh and blood.
and these lips are part of my body, but i still hate to say it:

i miss you.