They must tell me how they
so miss you –
they
who are among the living
allowed in your life.

I do not tell them how
I ache, too –
I
who am all but dead to you,
having shut me out.

My body has memorized
right response:
smile,
say nothing, give a quick nod
of acknowledgement.

I am missing among
the missing –
clear
and invisible, lost in
missing you, gone still.

No need to worry that
I’ll be found.
Lost,
I’ve no real capacity
to find me again.

I crawl under covers,
shades drawn, lights
off.
They’ll not tell me anymore
how they miss you so.