Looking around for pieces of you:
a book, a shirt, a thought you left behind.
I found your fragrance behind the bookcase as I dusted.
Your face haunts my mind.
Sometimes I swear I feel your weight beside me in bed,
feel you move the covers,
feel you in the lead-heavy air that hangs above me.
You haunt my mind,
but I know that you're a dream--
pieces of a man that used to be--
pieces stuck in the cobwebs of my mind.