In the throes of it all
I sat because I could not stand
fighting nausea and wanting just to trap you
string you up, like a garland on the mantle.

I missed you dearly
and in my quiet moments I was not tortured,
just merely pining —
acutely aware of the frequency between us
I’m not sure if I imagined it,
but I felt it all the same.

To be seventeen again
I hope I never slip back into the suffering