No Sign of You

I'd been wide awake for weeks, inhaling

the air that marked your body shaped

hole; ferreting for a time, a measure, a

portent of reality. everything else remained,

but you. the little voice in my head betrayed,

conceded that I was programmed, that my

existence was a mere eventuality of your

careless midnight dream. but my memory

wouldn't fail me, I recall the fever from

your leaving; the mass of a clunky mind

and a fleshy heart. how dare a dream

dream? oh, it was real; how could we ever

stand a chance? for each time you rose

from your sleep, I’d cease to exist.

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