the sounds of laughter and
hushed voices in my bedroom
are replaced by gusts of wind
and the sound of tires on pavement.
the pillow that she always used
is now mine to lay on as i wish,
though the desire has since left me,
as i reach out and touch nothing.
i now lay across the imaginary
line that i once joked was proof
of her hogging the bed,
arms and legs around me.
i no longer even get out
to check if i locked up,
or turn up the air,
or get a glass of water.
it is in the ordinary,
the every-day,
that our lives are molded,
and true bonds form.
