Empty Morning

Hum of the heater,
the only sound now
to accompany me.
He's not here
to bend me at will
and see into me.
My brain is quiet
and for a second
I know other people.

They live without
others in their head,
just like this.

Days pass away
in quiet isolation
and distress returns.
I wait for his words
in unhappy demand
of my empty head.
Panic that those
were the last
of his words to me.
Waiting and breaking
against the fear that
this has finally ended.

Then it comes,
that day his thoughts
turn back to me.