my breasts make me miss you
by Vanessa Friedman
I miss the way you used to touch
me, roughly grabbing for my center
which aches and makes me wonder who you are
reaching now, and if she enjoys your tongue
the way I did. But we both agreed to fold
our hand into the mattress and became two
who never meant to unify
and so we both won, took home a prize.
Mine is my freedom, though my breasts belie longing
and yours is something I cannot trace, lingering.