Without You

The space beside me hums with silence,  

where your hand used to drift lightly,  

following the map of my leg's curve—  

a trace of warmth now gone missing.  

I sit in the love seat's hollow dip,  

its arms too wide, too far apart,  

and I swear I still feel your kiss  

ghosting across my trembling mouth.  

What was I saving all of me for?  

The years piled high like stacked plates,  

a bachelor too long to remember love's  

fragile rhythm or its quiet demands.  

I hope you find the stillness you sought,  

a peace carved by your own steady hand.  

And maybe I'll learn to hold better,  

to shape my love around someone's need.