A lull in song or
story cuts the room in half
and who do you sit with now
laughing in the spaces
I used to fill
them in
and just keep smiling 

Who do you spend your
time with
I walk down cold hallways
I work toward no ends
My blood wants to
hunt eat sleep sit awake
with you
I put the words back
into my pocket
just to keep them longer 

Where do you go now
on cold days
when we might have walked
in a park held in strings
and when your hand is
empty does it sting 

Nothing fits like a glove
these days
I can’t recognize the color
or the shape
of hands grasping
of hair
of face 

to ache for warmth always
laying in the sunbeam
and your record plays
and skips; 
I always forget
the spot before the
tempo change 

and the music twists
and I rearrange
my words to fit
back in my empty hand
into pocket
and think maybe you will
hear it all anyway
eventually sleeping
one night never alone 

you will always be my home