she haunts my dreams,
my waking hours
with a presence more palpable
than blood or bone
for its singular absence —
an echoed silence down the hall
which lingers still,
or coffee cup stained
with lipstick
by the kitchen sink.
or the remembrance
of pretenses shed
in those unspoken moments
between us
until summer winds
no longer kissed her skin
like a distant lover
whispering honeyed secrets
borne on its bated
breath.
