Your coffee cup waits on the kitchen table. The red of your lips stays on it’s edge, till we meet again. Your brand of property, I’ll never wipe off.
“Love, you’re safe with me.” I whisper vows into your hair, but you’re asleep. You never hear me.
Why did you go, where I can’t follow? Your funeral cuts, and I lose count of the terrors these nights bleed.
I stop waking up from them.