I find myself cradling the pillows;
they are pale with grief.
They miss the caress of his hair,
the brush of his stubble,
and the way his snores sent
waves across their welcoming bellies.
You sit on the floorboards of my mind
and examine your fingernails.
I coax the daydreams from the cracks
and hollows of the walls.
May they cover you like blankets.
May they fade and fray your edges.
Back then, I didn’t know
years later we would collide
in a crowded street,
you would fall at my feet,
and I would look up
and breath in the sky.