Your face is as pale as the clouds.
Somewhere I'll look
to see you in each journey
from the car to the front door.

It's those moments
that I feel your hand in mine
and pull at the empty space
to remind myself of the loss
that surrounds illegitimate memories.

While the pillows aren't the same,
and the dust doesn't collect like it used to,
my skin has forgiven me
for leaving behind your porcelain touch
and my lungs breathe the Florida air easier.

But it doesn't stop my eyes
from craving the chase
of stray red hairs on the sheets,
knowing they would be replaced
in the most relieving nightly reunion.

Still, the scars fade into the void,
every day, one by one.
And the ones that spell your name
have become as faint as your image.
The Florida air holds a debt I could never repay.