Contributor: Katelynne Shepard

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I miss your touch.
Tough and tender,
a mismatch of half-burned tattoos and
perfectly manicured fingernails.

Gentle and strong,
like the straight-line winds before the tornado,
just enough to blow my hair back.

I miss your laugh.
I hear it in my dreams sometimes,
a forgotten melody of hope and fear only
my soul understands.

I miss your eyes.
The kaleidoscope of blues and greens
that never seem to be able to settle on
just one color.
An aquamarine flame that burns
and heals all at once
until I can do nothing but stare right back.

I miss your voice.
Vibrating deep with safety and comfort,
a heavy, navy blue Carhart hoodie
I wear with everything.
A strong "It's going to be alright,"
your face in my hair,
breath matching breath, waiting for
the whispered "I love you."

Because I do.


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Katelynne sells her soul as a freelance writer and editor to pay the bills but still finds the time to remember what the furious clicking of keys sounds like when memories spill out your fingertips.