it is in moments where I hiccup and anticipate
the fated spider you hold in your hand to cure me

or when someone swears instead of promises
forcing the realization that the two are one in the same
for everyone else but us

and when I put on an old t-shirt that does not
smell of a mix of your cologne and cigarettes

loneliness hits me a year later
while I'm scribbling poems
dripping with your essence