one side

roughly four months ago
you took your things
and handed me
the keys

nearly one hundred and twenty days
gone by since
you translated
never ending
and for ever
into this day
or tomorrow

all but twelve weeks
of last gasping
and not one call
one letter or
one kiss

been almost four months
and every hollow morning
i awaken on
my side
of our bed

a queen-size
eternity of space
for only me
yet no place
for what remains
of us

if we ever meet again
will i tell you that
i didn’t change the cover
on your pillow
so i could drown
myself
to sleep
in the remnants
of your scent

been roughly four months
and i remain
on the wrong side
of my bed

all the rest
is yours