When I miss you,
I fall out of bed.
I dream of you calling me
and I am scared.
I don’t want to love you.
I don’t want to know you.
I miss you all the same.
You call me from prison.
You call me from the depths of regret.
You call me from a town called Sinister.
You call me from my childhood.
I miss you at night
when I seek to be whole.
When I miss you,
I am overtaken with shock
and I fall out of bed.
Naphtalia 
We do love our tormentors sometimes. A sad poem but well written, well considered.
Thank you for the comment, Jamie. After visiting your blog, I feel we have a similar style of postings–especially considering it’s nearly midnight and I’m just beginning to muse the day together. Be well and we’ll see you again! -N
perfect rhymes, love the flow and beautiful sentiments…
welcome join us.
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share 1 to 3 poems with us without worrying about theme, our potluck week 27 will be open from Sunday, 8pm to Wednesday, 8pm, American central..
Hope to see you in. blessings.
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missing .. haven’t we all missed someone, falling out of bed, lost in thoughts. Lovely sentimental words, sad but true!
one cherish the light more after long hours of darkness,
beautiful imagery..
keep it up.
do join us today, it is free and fun…
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