No one is there
when I wake,
no hand on my back
or hip pressed against me,
only the weight
of swelling silence.
Sweaty sheets knot
around my knees--
an anchor keeping me
from well-meaning friends
who bludgeon with pity,
and stab with soundless stares.
Stroking the empty space,
my fingers remember
how poking your ribs
made you squirm and smile,
and I can almost hear you giggle
as the seconds tick away.
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