You are dreamtime.
You saturate my best friend -
you both wear the same cologne.

You are,
you are my manic grin at random moments
before I remember.

You echo in my giggles
when I'm lost in thought,
in the sighs when I think of you.

You fill all the empty space.
A rustling curtain, even though
I know. I know

you aren't here.
You aren't in love with me,
nor I with you.

You are nothingness,
a midnight memory.
You are a gaping hole in me.

Gaping. Gaping.