Dragging myself
belly down
across the sheet
searching for your warmth,
for the concave part of the mattress
heavy with your weight.
As my dream involuntarily
slides away,
Feeling returns
to my limbs;
I know I will not find you.
I left.
Foraging face first into the pillows
to mute the inevitable sob
that overworked tear ducts
are too weary to deny.
I left,
we both knew
I would have to.
But this morning I can almost
smell the smoke on your lips,
the flavor of every kiss.
I want to drive you home after work
and cradle your exhausted head
on my chest,
dragging peaceful fingertips
through your hair.
I want to feel the weight of your arm
across my shoulders for support
drunkenly stumbling out of Georgetown
over the bridge
to your apartment
Where I’ll change
into a pair of your boxers
and we’ll smoke cigarettes in
the bathroom.
You lean down to wipe up the ash
and cook pancakes in the morning.
I’ll wake you with a kiss
between the shoulder blades
and gentle scratches below the belly.
I can almost feel the muscle,
layered over with smooth skin
and soft hair,
until I realize it’s just cotton
and I raise my face
from the damp pillow,
wondering when I took
my last breath.