You're here even when you're not.
You exist between the cracks in my bed,
and within the fibers of my pillow.
I can still feel your footsteps in the floorboards;
the smooth wood where your toes crept across,
and the indent  you left with your heel.
I can still feel where your hands came to rest on me,
only moving with the rhythm of my lungs.
Your breathing was the only calm thing in the room
as  I molded you into me, locking in our shape.
They put the walls up to contain me,
but you're the only person who ever could.