i thought coming home
to an empty house
wouldn’t be odd
surprise, surprise
what’s odd
is the lack of you here…
II.
i dove with ease into these calm waters
floating without a routine
sensing that there should be
a certain guilt layered into
the joy of temporarily
flying solo…
instead, i was able
to sprawl across this empty bed
sleeping peacefully
through the night…
III.
the sheets were cold at 3am
there was no warmth
of you
to fold myself into…
on your pillows
the scents of you remain
i curled my body against them
inhaling the lonely bouquet
of your absence
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I know what you are talking about. It is a crazy feeling… to reach across the percale sheets expecting the reassuring sensation of touching the flesh of your lover ever so gently, but finding nothing except cool sheets. A moment of confusion. Then the truth of flying solo. It is only temporary. But I think of a day when it might be permanent and I wonder if I have the strength to remain aloft.