making a big deal of it

A small breath of dawn creates shadows,

 hiding the earth in it's cave-still tomb.

Daylight remains 

a shimmering whisper among the clouds.

I notice your going.

It makes an impression like acid on zinc plates.

Red clock numbers etch away minutes

and my body feels each one.

You are only gone from our still-warm bed, 

but you may as well be 

as distant as stars.

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

I am so glad you have seen fit to return. It would seem you have mixed feelings of a memory from your recent past.