My life is one big absence, John.
Like the neighbours went home and I’m still
looking in the oven and under the sofa for
Mary’s blue dress.
Drawn out seconds of searching.
And my heart still beats in two places
for you, John.
Our bed is only metres of
threatening space. You are not here
to warm my hands, my thighs, my insides.
I am blind in darkness,
my hands are outstretched before me.
I am looking for you –
but I keep slicing
through this damp nothingness.
I am afraid that my life will always feel
like non-living without you.