Every night (without her) he watches the sun set on his ceiling. Warm tendrils of light seep over the white paint like a high tide rushing onto the beach.
(He) keeps forgetting to replace the curtains she took with her.
The bed feels soft but (is) too warm; over-used.
His body leaves a crescent-shaped depression
(constantly) reaching out to the cold side of the bed
where she used to sleep.

life stretches on slowly
the previous rattle of scenery sliding past his eyes
has been reduced to a static hum
– like the sound after a rainstorm –
(falling) asleep is easier now.