I Still Leave Space For You

I still leave space for you in my bed.

I didn’t realize that I had even been doing it

Until one day I was changing the sheets,

Fluffing the pillows,

And realized from the indent in the mattress

That ever since I had moved in with my brother

I had been sleeping hugged

Up to the left couch arm

As tightly as I could,

Even in sleep unconsciously making room

Enough on that queen-sized foldable bed

To fit you and all the unsaid words

Between us.

And I would lie down every night

With your ghost

And the all too real trauma you left behind

And I would huddle them close,

Body still waiting to draw you near in sleep

And hoarsely whisper that I loved you before

Fading into oblivion dreams

Where I was still able to pretend that I was glad

To be alive and endlessly happy to be yours.

But in reality I huddle close to that couch arm--

On that lumpy, uncomfortable bed so unlike ours--

With all of my anxieties and pain and grief a void

Looming behind me like hellfire,

And the ghost of you wraps your arm tightly

Around my waist,

Pulling my back flush to your chest,

Lying a soft kiss on my neck,

And as I whisper brokenly that I still love you

Only the emptiness speaks back.