Held real in moments
I see your hand
Between the pillow and the bed;
I feel your arm,
Warm under my neck,
Your breath soft on my back,
But turning,
I shift
Awake
Without you.

And for a minute,
I sit blindly on bed’s edge,
Defining borders of reality ...
Imagination ...
Sleep’s sand-eyes gouged out
To perceive wrinkled sheets.
That were your fingers
(Or my desires)
In their proper light
(And shadows).

 
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