by Heather Carnaghan
Missing you is a physical ache deep in my chest; It’s a heaviness that bends my spine and burdens every step. Is there something deeper, truer than “I love you” that a mother can tell her child? I love the smell of the forest. I love the taste of a raspberry plucked sun-warm from my grandfather’s garden. But you, you are a need in my soul that “I love you” can’t explain. What words hold in them every breath I breathe?
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August 2018
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