I've been lying in this twist of sheets
with feet hanging off the edge of the world.
I rub my blurry eyes.
My fingers catching in my tangled hair.
"Sit up." I tell myself.
Feel that familiar loss.
A puff of breath escapes.
Light spills in through my window, pouring onto the floor.
It beckons me to rise, but how can I?
The last vestiges of you will evaporate.

Day starts.

My head hits the pillow again,
where I imagined you to be.
These reveries fill my mind with flashes of skin, and scent.
You on me.

I roll off the edge of the world now, wondering,
how does one pull reality out of these cloudy, pensive corners?
I need to know,
because you're waiting for me there...so far away.

It's you I need. Just you.

Tell me what I have to do to make this real.

All the colors are ****** to gray.
Time forces me to be still.
The damnable mirror reflects my face -  looking back at only me.
Without you.

I rub the chill from my limbs.
I go about the trivial parts, only half aware.
I'm always living somewhere else inside my head.
A morning ghost.