I wake up on your side of the bed
cold, without you to bring sunlight
to dandelion bones, shaken by the
violent winds
and dimmed stars that sew our
eyes shut, together and then apart
like children on swing sets
on a warm summer night.
blow these dandelion bones far
apart and into the sky
till I’m void of anything but
battered skin and galaxy bruises
till I’m nothing but
everything.