Whispers in the Dark

When you are gone, I bury my face in the pillow where you slept so I can smell your skin.

Sometimes when I turn my head, the scent of you is in my hair where I lay against your chest.

And when your eyes are closed, I mouth the things I must not speak in a silent voice you cannot hear and only your eyelids see.

My fingers curl small so you could fold your hand around them, and my shoulders wait for the wrap of your arm.

I listen to your actions, and I count your kindnesses as the words you do not say.