Poetry

“From: ‘Making Love to Myself'” by James L. White.

I wonder if you remember what
we promised when you took the job in Laramie?
Our way of staying with each other.
We promised there’d always be times
when the sky was perfectly lucid,
that we could remember each other through that.
You could remember me at my worktable
or in the all-night diners,
though we’d never call or write.

I just have to stop here, Jess.
I just have to stop.

One thought on ““From: ‘Making Love to Myself'” by James L. White.

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