Silhouette
I love him for his shadow,
The dark, billowing version of him
Without a face
Or a trace of a name.
His hair is almost the same
Texture as someone I lost –
Different colour, sure,
But all drains to sepia
When the lights are off.
I will keep him around
For his familiar silhouette,
Ignore his new smell and the sound
Of his voice saying my name. Regret
And heartache stifled ‘til dawn
By his broad, tenebrous form.
Making love to an outline
Is the best I can do –
You see, he is not you.
And though I can pretend,
Every time in the end,
I wake up with a stranger
And your shadow has fled.