Tonight you are trying to forget;
I don’t need to know how.
I wish I were there to hold you—
trace your face with my fingertips,
kiss the center of your forehead,
bite your bicep while trying
to make you laugh.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen you;
I would’ve stayed longer if I knew
weather and time would keep us apart.
I miss: your hand over mine—
falling asleep with my feet between
your calves, my head on your chest—
cafuné calms me. I am safe
when I’m with you; vulnerable nerves—
I am armor to protect you. Let me soothe
you and this craving.
Marisa Silva-Dunbar is a New Mexican poet. Her work has been published in work to a calm poetry zine, Amaryllis, Manzano Mountain Review, Bone & Ink Press, and Midnight-Lane Boutique. She graduated from the University of East Anglia with her MA in poetry. Marisa is a contributing writer at Pussy Magic. She has work forthcoming in Dark Marrow, The Charles River Journal, Dear Reader, and Marias At Sampaguitas . Marisa is the founder and EIC of Neon Mariposa Magazine.