Sitting Naked

Sitting naked at my computer,
thinking about you.
How strange that so many
what we have.
They call it prison
what has freed me
more than childhood.
A killer of love
they call this,
which makes me think of you
as I sit here
in front of the screen.
Each inch of my own skin
only makes me think of you,
because you own it all,
and all that it holds.
Funny, how so many
avoid the romance
and passion
I so happily give you,
even when you’re not here.
Cruel how even now
thousands mistakingly believe
that what we have
can be so easily
thrown away,
just because it
‘didn’t work out.’

I’m sitting naked at my computer
looking at nothing
but these words
as I think about you,

and can only wonder
how such a world as this
can be so utterly

Aren’t they?
My husband.

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