Missing you is nothing new,
but a faded sense of you.
I remember that I felt
beneath my skin,
beneath my heart,
where I kept
and held it close:
something true
or something false.
Now I melt.

'Where's it gone?' I ask myself,
today a faded sense of self.
I recall that it was here
beneath my skin,
beneath my soul,
where you lay
and then you lied
in this body,
in that bed.
Now I hear

your voice.

***
S.K.