I envision that you’re speaking
And snap alert,
Neck instantly reversed;
And almost smack into my ceiling
At night, I think I hear you breathing

Last night
When I cried out;
Did you see me weeping there?
Or in the bathroom,
On the floor;
Did you see the tears mixed in my hair?

Or how about, instead;
When I slowly rinse my blank-slate face
Can you recall the flush of red
It would hold when we embraced?

Now every week at church these days,
I lift my broken hands
As far as I can physically command
And I pray for you, and for you only
In a last-minute attempt to be the slightest holy

Yet still, my troubled mind
Still can’t conceive
The breath you whisked away from me
When you lay silent in your bed;
I felt the final breath you’d ever breathe