I slept with your silhouette stapled
to my eyelids again,
and woke up without you
again.
I cry thinking of
how the morning light would
skitter and fragment colors across your prismic skin.
Next to me on the couch,
you fracture my thoughts before
they reach my lips -
"I love you-"
All that escapes.
It's time to go, you tell me.
Wait, please - I try to say -
but instead
"I love you-"
again
and you go,
leave only your imprint on the pillow
again.