Everywhere I see you
                              feel you
this wine glass, your lips
the spittle-sip, your kiss. 

I can hear you breathing
when the wind sighs. 

When I turn off the lights
you are here, beside me
with your arms around my waist.
I cannot sleep.

Hands lingered on these bannisters
across pillows;
                    in the dawn
there splayed an angel on these sheets.

I can hear you breathing
when the wind sighs.

In this trough you slept, snoring
unwashed bedding
I can smell you, still
                           laughing.

A pair of your underpants
I wear them
to be close to you, to brush against you.
You’re in the laundry basket, now.

I can hear you breathing 
when the wind sighs.

On the floor you exercise,
push and press and sit
you are at the foot of the bed
reading.

You are walking through the door
with a cup of tea, three biscuits
a grin on your face.
My hand is in your pocket, fiddling.

I can hear you breathing
when the wind sighs.

Your fist hits me three times
blood specked on wall.
I can feel your pulse, here.
I can feel your anger, here.

The bruises on my body are you
the two on my arm, kisses
planted firm with a knuckle
not quite as soft as lips.

I can hear you breathing 
when the wind sighs
when the wind sighs
I can hear you breathing
when the wind sighs.

-M. R. Wallis