One arm searches an empty half of bed
The missing woman whose scent stayed to sting
Has let more than just part of the sheets go cold this night
As the tossing and returning to subtle acts: hints my despair distinguish
Have spilled out my confidence over unspoken meanings and fear of a misused word
The missing hope that felt more of faith
Left by no trackable path from thought and emotion as it fled
Only new infection wherever it's lotion had soothed my lifes wounds
Drying my throat and wetting my pillow in its escape until that well was also drained
The missing tears let my eyes become stone
Heavily guarding the sullen statue my soul's become
Refusing to be moved from this firm reply or further
Even as my body makes a vigilant sport of restlessness
The missing sleep that I took on trust before
Just as I evade answers and justified reactions by not asking
Has always seemed to hide from change
