~ what was is differently now ~

Instead I will tell no one, though time

pause for us at the edges of our lives where we

brush against each other – having been so long, and just

moments, since the last time we met in evening,

in a town you care for only in memory. From the first time

we slept, fully clothed, in the same bed, longing

to share unconsciousness, rhythms of breathing – all my previous selves

have lived with yours, waiting in doorways, riding

a bicycle in the wind, hanging laundry on a frosty morning. I can still

point to your chest – the place my ear rests against

your heartbeat – and say “home,” but I have learned to live

with myself, to live into your absence (I have burrowed)

deeper, sinking until I forget I am alone. I find you

in sleep, in my eyes looking out

the kitchen window, filling with leaves and sky, things

we still have in common, and sometimes,

after dark wrapped in your arms, saying again goodbye

and again – holding your hand, you

let go of mine – so long outside the hours.