I am missing you most in those moments when I know
you’re trying to fold yourself into pieces over and over again
like an origami crane, into halves, then thirds, then fourths,
so small and thin I could treat you to one of my breaths
and you would disintegrate like powdered sugar.
In the days when I still wrote about you as a person
worth writing about, I tried to introduce myself
to your sadness, as if it were a potential employer
looking for new coworkers for its favorite employee,
but its handshake was too firm. In Missouri
you were always in love with the way the moon exposed
its inner linings, turning itself inside out like the belly
of a purse, as if wishing you could be so transparent-
but then again, there’s a reason why veins are kept
so close to the surface of the skin.
This reminds us that they are there for a reason
and are not to be shredded like maxed-out credit cards.