oblivion | p.j.m

i.

I can still feel you.

How can you be gone?
How can you be everywhere?

Your presence,
It clings to my very soul
Like smoke imbedding in a sweater.

The bed is so cold.
No matter how many blankets I pile up,
Your absence chills me to the bone.
My fingers reach,
Yet they are greeted by empty air
And a sickening feeling of complete desolation.

Sunday mornings.
They are mere rain clouds on a sunny day,
Because they just remind me of how bleak this house is
Without the smell of black coffee,
And the warmth of your bare thigh under my hand.

How are you hiding?
How are you everywhere I look?

------
Surprise.