When I reach out to the empty
space next to me at night,
you’re adjusting the temperature
of your stovetop.
And when your body rolls over,
you anticipate a soft tug of the duvet
but I’m a thousand miles away,
wiping bread crumbs from my plate.
In the wee hours of my morning
and the beginning of your night –
when you’ve begun your slumber
and I’ve started to stir at the morning light –
I imagine our breath begins to heave the same sigh
and our hearts pulsate to a familiar sound
and in that fine brightness before dawn
our souls return together to form one.