i'm looking for the space between bedsheets.

holes in this tiny atmosphere.

anything to grasp with my fragile hands.

i can't deny that i'm always thinking of you.

there isn't much left to want, nothing that isn't futile at least.

it's quiet here, but i'm comfortable.

that means something, right?

i can use my imagination to fill in the blanks for the time being.

my body is useless without your arms swarming it.

you are what i know.

i miss you already.