Four months in.

I wake in the middle of the night and wonder if you dream of me.
If you hear echos of the way I used to break your name into pieces
every time your hand drifts southward.
If you hold another woman like you held me through those nights,
tight across your chest, above your heartbeat.
If I actually give a damn about you at all
or if I'm just lonely.
I wonder, I wonder, I wonder...