Spoons

I made spoons with your pillow

ground my face into its back

... and in a deep inhale

(i can still smell your hair)

came a serene light of truth:

ironically, memory is a

not-quite solace

(and the fabric is cold)

Spoons by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.