I leave the lamp on, dimmed low
             door half closed, as if you
          were still in the other room.
       I turn my neighboring pillow
     sideways, tucked in beside me—-
          I pretend I see the tv flicker,
   the faint clicks of the controller,
assuring me you’ll find your way.

            I try to drift and fall asleep,
            but I miss your love
            and warm embrace,
            as you call me darling, and
            have a pleasant dream.

    My fear is not from the dark.
               fear is not temporarily
                                         all alone.
                   The fear comes from
                                 your absence.

There is no squeak
on the hinged door,
and the sheets still stay cold,
and I wonder when I get old—
will I miss you as much
                               as I do now.