Confession by David Golledge

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How often?
I ask myself.

How often
have I thought
of you?

How many seconds,
minutes, hours
has your face
swam in my mind,
distracting my breath?

How many thoughts
of your mouth,
your touch?

How many aching nights
spent alone, hearing
your hair caressing
my pillow, seeing
your starlit sighs?

And how,
could you not know
that I am in orbit
about your eyes?

Autumn is on the world.
Sunlight disturbs
the sea, yet Summer
has remained in this
alien land.

It's alive
in your warmth
and simple guile.

I love you.

You are my smile.