I sat at our diner this night and stared across the vinyl booth.
Your vacant silhouette seemed to suddenly reach for something and I could swear I heard you laugh.
I pushed my food from one side of the plate to the other until dry potatoes spilled onto the table.

I sat there dully, alone.  
I began navigating the rhythm of my relationships, of our relationship. 
I believe the most satisfying sport for you was to ignore me when I craved your attention the most. 

My heartache has become my lover these days.
I hold your phantom hand as I step my unsteady path home. 
High above the lane I see tea lights on a terrace. 
Dancing light plays upon the night and Billie Holiday weeps faintly from an open window.

It's sweater weather now and the chill directs me home. 
It's cold. You are cold.
I must find warmth.
I turn on your playlist as I fall to sleep and think,
The more impossible, 
The deeper the love.