i sleep with one arm
stretched across the mattress
like my body still expects
to find you there.
every morning
my hand closes
around cold sheets
and i pretend
that doesn't ruin me
a little.
call me needy.
call me soft.
call me someone
who never learned
the difference
between comfort
and a person.
i miss ridiculous things
the weight of your leg
thrown over mine,
your heartbeat
against the inside of my wrist
when i can't settle.
people say
you'll get used to absence.
i want to fall asleep
with my face
buried in your shoulder,
my fingers
hooked into the back of your shirt,
like if i let go
morning might take you away.
i don't need forever.
i just need
one more night
where your breathing
tells mine
what rhythm to keep.
let the world call it childish.
i call it this
resting my hand
on your chest
just to make sure
the universe
is still behaving.