in my loneliest nights
I called your name in the darkness
you might respond.
I traced your likeness
over my pillow, imagining
I could draw you beside me.
I would reach
(& I might’ve torn a muscle,
as if I could grasp your hand
when you were never there.
you were never there & that
terrible truth tore my heart
in two.
it’s a complicated mess,
this common happenstance
of remembering how much
of a one you still are,
how much you are
one silhouette, one side
of a bed.
the coldness of these sheets
wasn’t a bother before,
but things change.
I’ve changed, more than I realized,
& I am confused
by the nighttime silence
that no longer comforts me,
confused by the thought
that I could love a ghost
so much. you are
my sleepless apparition,
what I believed could save me.


4 thoughts on “insomnia.

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