This Faint Impression
This faint impression
left on the left
side of my bed
is not due to human touch or body.
No, it is more of a
wishing, wanting dip
in a cold and washed out room
with carpets needing vacuumed
and clutter as the rule.
And when I see it
on these gloomy mornings
with the snow drawing down
like ash over Dresden,
I rarely think anymore
about how there used to be
someone inhabiting a similar dip.
Her hips fit it perfectly,
and when she rolled over
the crescent moon shape
of her silhouette
warmed me with…
something.
God, I was young then—
it was probably lust.
I’m just being honest.
I rarely think anymore.