Empty Space

When you left 

You left behind a weight 

A presence to empty spaces 

I never thought to think of empty as 

A weighted vacancy that wasn't there before you were,

Here.

In my space

My passenger seat. 

That red couch. 

My fingers on the gear shift. 

My right arm on the armrest as I drove. 

My neck. My lips. 

Your fingers filled a void between mines 

Your arms closed space 

Your warmth belonged 

And there was a wet weave and thread 

Thick and impossible to describe, but it was. 

It's was you. 

These things were yours.