this bed is too big, I roll
in my sleep seeking warmth,
breathing, these sheets go
to waste - I hear every frog
chirping in the night every
thrushie’s peep the buzz
of the electric fan lulls me
in this silence marked most
by the absence of your breathing
the dull thud of my heart promises
to send up bile, my hands
shake, I reach for you in the night
and find only memory the hairs
on my arm tickle me anew
the sun is bright and the air
is not poison but still I ache for you
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