Sometimes amputees can still feel a body part that is no longer there. They call this phantom pain. They can feel an itch where theres nothing to scratch, pain where there's nothing to hurt, they can feel the tickle of sheets, stretching across what used to be a limb. I can still feel your body next to mine while I sleep but I pinch my arm to distract myself. Phantom pain: noun. A sensation of pain coming from a body part in which the nerves have been destroyed. The first time you left, you gave me your flannel. The sleeves flooded my arms and though I could not see them, I could still wiggle my fingertips. For the next five months, I would wrap it around my body as tight as I could in hopes that I would feel something. But my hands formed fists and for a moment, I forgot that they were there. The second time you left, you gave me your body. Told me that it was all mine, that you were sculpted just for me, that we were apart of God's masterpiece and NOTHING would wreck this beauty. You told me that we were going to glue this puzzle together and frame it. Hang it above our bed. Now I lay in bed and I can feel your body next to mine. The third time you left, you gave me a kiss....after kiss, after kiss, you kissed me from head to toe, from finger tip, to fingertip, you kissed me so much, I forgot the entire english language, so much that my lips turned blue, so much, they went numb, so much that when you were kissing her, I could still feel it. I could still taste your tongue, I could still feel the outline of your ribcage, I could still feel the warmth of your hand curled around mine, you cannot feel mine. You did not want this body, you did not want this hand, this ribcage, this tongue, this piece of the puzzle. Instead, you wanted a body that believed in what she could not see, one that you could lay next to, one that you could be sealed with. One that would fit in a **** box with you, one you could send off to heaven with free shipping, you wanted a body with scriptures tattooed across her ***, because mailing costs one questionable ***** stamp. One that would pray with you while making love, a body that you don't have to repent for, a body that god would be proud of. I woke up this morning and next to me was an imprint of what I once believed in.