Leftover Possession

I will always reach
for your hand and
I will always dig
my fingers through
your hair and my palms
will always rest on the
small of your back
because they are
manifestations of the
way I attempt to
give you comfort.

I just want the next girl
who falls in love with you
to know from the start that
she may walk into a room to
find my legs draped over yours,
but that you’ll definitely be
going home with her with
no argument from me.

That it doesn’t mean a thing.
That it is only a comfort.
That you are no longer mine
any more than I am yours.

Which is totally
and completely
and always.

But only in that place
of leftover possession
that holds me hostage.
~7/16/15
____
This one has been sitting in the queue for awhile and I’m tired of looking at it.

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