I thought I felt your shape but I was wrong,
really all I felt was falsly strong.
I held on tight and closed my eyes,
it was dumb, I had no sense of your size.

It was dumb to hold so tight.
But last night on your birthday in the kitchen,
my grip was loose, my eyes were open.
I felt your shape and heard you breathing,
I felt the rise and fall of your chest.

I felt your fall,
your winter snows,
your gusty blow,
your lava flow.
I felt it all:
Your starry night,
your lack of light.
With limp arms I can feel most of you.

I hung around your neck independently
and my feeling of loss was overwhelemed
by this new depth I don't think ive ever felt.

But I don't know...
my nights are cold.
November warmth,
I could have sworn
I wasn't alone.