it's funny the things you do for someone in their absence. usually, when i miss someone i punch walls and other unforgiving things. give myself bloody knuckles. i lie in bed and stare at the ceiling as if the constellations of bumps and other marks could give guidance where the real stars couldn't. but now, im kissing broken knuckles. i want to kiss everything better, every broken bone, every shattered soul, every scarred wrist, every leaking heart. i'd kiss a cactus if that would make your pain stop. i'm doing things i've never done. i'm writing love poems. i'm dancing in the kitchen. i'm singing to the trees. one night, like so many others before, i unplugged all of my electronics and watched them die, and for the first time, i didn't envy them.