You Were

"Dreams: the place most of us get what we need." - Amy Hempel

At night, I sleep with emptiness --
my fingers reach for your ghost and
I drift into memories of your touch.
The bare side of the bed stays cold.

I used to fall asleep in nakedness,
next to you. I used to be warm
with your body heat, flesh on flesh.
Only fabric layers cover me now.

You're still the one I want to call,
when my world comes crashing down
when I'm shivering inside my skin.
I dial your number and hang up.

I used to look to who you were, and
it's easier to stop missing you now
knowing that you have changed. But
I fear I'll always love you the same.

Loneliness lingers -- I fall asleep with
tears and empty hands, I reach for
memories of what could have been.
Now we speak only in my dreams.