It isn’t the first night you’ve been gone.
Away.
Somewhere else.
It isn’t the first night I’ve felt alone.
Rejected.
Out of my body.
But it’s the first night you are silent.
Missing.
Really gone.
I feel your absence sink in.
And I am crushed flat
under the weight
of what I am
to you.
Which is almost nothing.
Well written.
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