Missing you is my secret hobby,
So secret I often omit to tell myself,
For you see, darling,
The pain of missing is present,
It's there all the time,
And so I place it in a treasure chest,
In the fifth chamber of my heart,
Locked by my soul fibres,
Fashioned into golden links.
And there,
Without sound,
The missing can be found,
And released,
When I have the time and space,
For such emotion to be expressed.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, January 25, 2022.