the empty space between memory and reality

The edge of the bed lingers with the back of your head
and the curve of your body rising and leaving
the door clicking shut to starve the air of this room
of your presence

Your absence weighs upon my lungs
and the salt that spills and dries upon
my destitute features

I can feel you somewhere deep inside
your heartbeat fluttering against my sternum
though you no longer rest your head
upon my breast

Time is a loop on which to replay memories
a silent film behind my eyes
your colours vivid in my mind
clouded by the smoke of your last cigarette
when you told me you don’t love me anymore

I see you ghosting through the space
we once shared
remembering the careful way you’d fold your clothes
before you put them away beside mine
a jumbled mess of fabric and dual scents

All that remains on the empty nightstand
is a flower, long wilted
like you, like me, like our love

© Indie Adams 2012