I came back this morning,
the house dark and silent,
and called out her name.
It felt good on my tongue,
but the echo hurt my ears.
I went to our bed,
cold and dreary,
and inhaled her scent
deeply into my mind.
My fingers twitched with need,
wishing only to touch the shadow of her smile.
I could hear phantom noises throughout
my house, the tinkering of children
eased aside by thirsty ears.
The memory of my name on her lips
seemed to flutter gently
against me, as wine to my soul.
I climbed between cold linen,
my heart beat my only solace,
its cadence akin to the cruel ticking
of an unseen clock: dis tance, dis tance.
And my hand smoothed over the depression
where she once lay,
the warmth still a part of my life.
Apart.
(c) ArdentTly 060600