You have not left me, but I am bereft. The weight of the day is getting too heavy for me to bear. What shall I do tomorrow morning, when my eyes open and the first thing they see is the empty space where you would be?
What are you doing now, on the other side of this world? Your night is my day. Your voice can only travel across the wires, your words can only reach me sealed on a screen.
And I could say I miss you, but that would have no meaning. There is no word yet for losing a part of your days, consigning them to dust and looking ahead, only ahead...when I see you next, I am afraid I will hurt you. (Your bones may break under the weight of my breath.) My head will break the surface of this dark water at the sight of your face. Are you ready?