I can still feel her hand
On my shoulder
She's face down
To my right
With her arm
At ninety degrees
Her hand, not gripping
But laying
Embracing
Where my arm meets my chest

I lay to her left
But now firm on the floor
With the ceiling light off
And only a half closed door

But the warmth on my shoulder
Even just to remember
Makes it comfortable enough
That I can sleep where ever

sometimes
                                                       ­                         my
                                     ­ brain
                       doesn’t
                                                       ­     work

right
                                                ­                               and

                             my

                                              thoughts

     ­                                         scatter

               ­                                                    like
                               beads

                                     spilled
                               on
                                                              ­                 tile

floor

Love looks
Like the spaces
Between his fingers
Being filled
With mine

..
and there was this tranquility that
draped over both the decaying dead and alive bodies
like a thin blanket attempting to reassure both sides
that there is more to life than this..