This is the first
Time I've been out of love
In years.

It's odd.

I'm clinging to heartbreak; I find
I am
Thinking of your lovely hands, and how I miss them:
Your shallow sleep-breathing
And your stubble in the evening.

I'm pinching myself in places that you kissed me,
Wanting to feel the wanting
You stirred inside my body.

Needing to remember;
I conjure up your laugh -
But it's more alive than you ever were -

And in death this romance seems to be sweeter.

And in life, in truth, it was all just so much simpler.