Walking to the door
You don’t even look back
Or seem to have an unsure bone in your body
My arms grip your waist
As to pull you back into the fantasy we once had
The smiles, the sunshine,
The eye kisses, the interlocked appendages
Our hands were Siamese twins
Then snap of the fingers
The hypnotist was through with you
Middle of the night
I wake to legs not wrapped in another’s
Pillow without a head
Yet an indent lies
Where the head should be