Shadow Lover

The clock turns to twelve
and I wait for you to appear.
I walk into the living room.
On the sofa, you sit.
Your loose, dirty blond hair
shimmers in the light from the kitchen.
I want to reach out to you.
To feel your arms
around me once again.
I do not,
for I know when I do,
you will be gone.
Instead I turn and enter the kitchen.
There you are
making invisible mac and cheese
just like you did that last night.
I stand in the door
and watch you
wishing I could
kiss you, hold you, feel you.
Wishing it could be
six months ago.
Wishing I never let you go.
As the tears well up
I walk away, back to my bedroom,
my lonely cell.
Sitting back in my chair
I can almost feel you
behind me watching me
as I type with the two
or three fingers
you once told me typed so fast.
The pain of this ironic closeness,
becomes too much
and I lay on my bed to cry.
Images of the last
weekend flood my mind
Why did I let you go?
Why didn't I keep you close?
I look over at my chair
and see you sitting there.
So at home.
I get up and sit on your lap.
We used to do this a lot
in the months
before you became my shadow lover.
Oh my love, my shadow lover
it is your presence
that has kept me sane.
Stay by my side and
I can make it until you return.
My heart, my soul, my life.
My shadow lover.
--By Jamie Erdman aka Poetsoul