I woke to dreams of oversized shirts

and good coffee

Of a man that’s not here

I woke to a cold

quiet

house

Where nothing echoes in the hall

No footsteps coming up the

stairs

No freshly pressed

love

It’s the same as it was yesterday

and the day before

Loneliness is periodic insanity

Every now and then

someone

somewhere

will make an appearance in my space

to

say hello

or check

for breath or life

and then its back to the reality of

one