So ething issing

y Dear,

aybe you do s ell like cigarettes
(and- what was the other thing?)
and  aybe you do not
but I don't  ind either way

and I don't have a good topic
for conversation
and I don't know
what you  eant
when you said
"As you wish. Goodnight..."

but I do love when you say
"Love, it's okay
we're here and it's now
so, stretch out and wait..."

And I feel very  uch like
I' standing on a precipice
watching  y whole world fall to pieces

Last night I scoured  y bedroom
and I swore I would find  yself
but I had no success

Yet I hope
that when  y world finally
decides to reconstruct itself
that it will still have you in it

Because, like the thirteenth letter
of the alphabet
o itted from a typewriter

the  essage still is not complete
the  eaning isn't quite clear

I' not  yself without you.
There's so ething  issing.