in July

Sometimes I miss winter,
with the songs of chilled air
passing through your trees,
and my feet searching for yours
underneath cold sheets at night,
and then I remember
July.


Sometimes I remember the softness
of your body pressing against mine,
the uncontrolled wanting of you as
your lips search for my kisses and
these arms taste this emptiness,
and then I remember
July.

Sometimes
I miss the rain,
sometimes
I just miss you,

in July



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