three stories of me.

  
(i)
   
Waiting for you    
is like trying to catch time;  
The remembrance of your lips,  
one millisecond  
an eon;   
You are my heart's    
own    
black hole.  
   
(ii)  
   
When I awake  
still foggy from jagged sleep,  
Gone is your warmth,    
yet  
your musky scent permeates;  
With the deepest breath    
I capture you in my chest,  
where you've always been.  
   
(iii)  
   
Finding you  
amongst all the various    
scattered thrown away pieces of souls,  
With their hopes buried flat  
yet screaming their    
muffled screams—  
I am the littlest    
clover of four  
nay, even more,    
I'm the forgotten penny,    
whose shine is now  
dazzling brilliant in found.