We never really talked on the phone

First, I miss the sun
on my face and in my
eyes and on my
skin.

Second, I miss your voice
on the other end of
the telephone
line.

Third, I miss the feel
of muscles flexed
tightly in my
legs.

Fourth, I miss the days
when we could go
out and just
wander.

Fifth, I miss the times I
could write all words
without fear of
hate.

Sixth, I miss the happy years
of our innocence when I
would take you all
out.

Seven, I miss the unapologetic hope
that left almost immediately
with the angel of
death.

Eight, I miss the days
passed without the
mention of
age.