she's not there

the sun goes down.
the lights go out.
you smooth the pillow,
and lie against the bed,
you close your eyes,
but you're still awake.
you listen
to the house breathe.
the heat finding its
way through the vents.
the leaks of air,
small winds.
you hear the ice
dripping cold
outside the window.
you reach over
to touch her. to tell
her something you've
been thinking about,
this woman you love
and hold dear,
but she's not there.
you forget how easily
things change.