The bed is yours.
I'm saving it for you.
I keep it warm.
I wash the sheets
and pillowslips.

The pillow misses you.
I comfort it;
I whisper to it.

And my breath
is yours as it
always has been;
my pulse, our pulse-
beat to beat.

I leave your bed
and wade dark waters
throughout the house.
I returned to find you
to surprise you, half asleep,
waiting there for me.

A childish game I play
and never win.