Your body had lain there just moments ago, our hands clasped, the TV going.
I saw you as my eyes blinked, drifting in and out of sleep. Your eyes. Your beautiful, sharp eyes were what I saw last.
And when you rose to leave, I awoke, heart feeling as if it were breaking.
I knew you’d be back and that I’d see you in just a day or so, but hours, in my mind, were years.
You leaned over to me, saying you had to go. Saying that if you needed me you’d shout.
In the haziness of my mind, a haziness caused by the collision of dream and reality, I heard you whisper.
My mind might have confused itself with my heart for I heard you say the three words that could wrench a man’s soul from his body or mend it.
I clung to that most likely false memory.
Words failing me, I tried to ask you to come back, but my tongue would not permit it.
So I fell back asleep, dreaming that you were still there next to me.
And I awoke once more, in a panic, in a frenzy thinking it had all been a dream. When I looked over, I saw that you had left your necklace.
I picked it up as if it were your own heart, and I looked at it, comforted.