there’s cobwebs

on your side of the bed.

not the same bed,

across state lines

in a town by the coast

where no one knows our names.

I am afraid to disturb them,

to make a space as unfillable 

as the miles between my window

and the haunting moon.

I am afraid most days,

as memory slides into silk shadows

lurking on the edges of rest

like cobwebs

on your side

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