it's like
phantom limb.
i know you aren't
here,
but it hurts to think that
you were.

once.

it's like you are reaching
across     the     void 
to drive your fingers 
through my ribs and
pry me open like  
the jaws of life
just to
steal beats
from my heart.

my skin has this habit
of remembering things it shouldn't,
and all too often it remembers
your five fingertips on my back.
it remembers your stubble, 
if we can even call it that,
on my upper lip.

the palm of my hand fits
puzzle-piece-perfect on the side of your neck
and when i am without you 
my hands know it.
my hands miss you as much as my heart does.

my hand felt
like it was a part of something
new,
yet something that it somehow, strangely
knew.

all i want is for you
to take my hands and
take my time,
but you're all too good at the latter.

taking your time
figuring out
that i miss you.
stealing the steel
parts of myself that
i have worked so hard to build up.

i am trying to build a tolerance
to your absence like people try
to build a tolerance
to alcohol.
i take a shot of reality
and stare down at my body
realizing that something so 
important is missing.
you. 

air is too heavy, too thick without your laugh, 
my hands are too light without yours in them,
and life is too lonely without you. 

the negative space around me stings
and screams to be filled with you.

it's like phantom limb.
you're not here, but
my body doesn't know it yet.