Let Me Miss You

by Eleanor Goldfield

I'm letting myself miss you -

I'm letting you soak into my soul -

high off this low

and I can feel you in my bones -

your thoughts pulse in my marrow -

and I can taste your dreams -

I'm letting myself drink your echoes -

not for you, but for me

I wanna feel this deep -

your breath rushes these passages -

but this inhale is mine -

these caves I'll mine -

dig to the depths till there's nothing left -

but me -

raw, jagged and real.



I think I'll stay here a while.


I got a present for you at one of those gas station gift shops in the middle of the desert - not because I’ll ever have a chance to get it to you not because you'd like it – but because I needed to tell someone somewhere that I’m thinking of you.

I needed to commiserate – I needed to put you out of my mind as you tear through my soul – needed to pour the overflow into this plastic dope and float on a silently laughed scream as I place it on the dashboard and dream.

You'll never read this – and you'll never see it – but for a moment, it helped – holding your echoes with a piece of capitalism in my hands, singing along - breathing my ache in a hot desert nowhere – reminded that only the plastic will last – and this too shall pass.