When I awoke
from nightmares
at three or four A.M.,
I’d reach out
my hand
and trace your jawline.
Soft enough
so that
I wouldn’t wake you.

Now,
when I awaken
from the night terrors,
there is nothing,
no one
there to trace.
Except my shadow
on the wall,
the lines
in the mattress
beneath the sheets,
the cold pillow in the
empty spot where you
used to sleep.

And then
I start to wish
that I could
go back
to the nightmare,
because
at least
you’re in them
sometimes…