I think it's ridiculous that you can't be in a graveyard or cemetery after dark, but whatever

I used to sleep through the night.

My body twined around yours,

Hearts beating for each other

Through the thin membrane of skin

Now we trade shifts

Where one closes their eyes

And the other absorbs red lights

And cigarette ash in the cold 

My blanket smells like your body wash

And the cologne that your father gave you

And the wooden floors creak

Under your feet after midnight 

I used to consume your smile

Like a leech on a fish's belly 

Where the scales are appointments

And your tongue was the ink. 

Now I hug myself at night

With the blanket that smells like you

And the floor boards don't beg 

For the caress of your callouses. 

I taste the salt and vinegar of your words,

Weakened by time, 

Where we nakedly rest against

The walls of the house we built 

It is winter, and the roses I lay on 

The grave of our love shatter like ice shards

And melt into pools so red 

that they are almost black

I miss your warmth.

I miss your smell.

I miss the drum of your heart

Beating while mine rests. 

The year closes,

And again,

I age while you do not. 

Tuneless songs fading into the poppyseed night.