You are the moments in between:
that space in the hall
just after I forgot to close the door;
the second the water turned cold
after jumping the pot to burn my hand;
when my fingers hovered loosely,
quesioning their choice of keys.
In those seconds of indecision, you slide in neatly,
you are the phantom limb,
the sudden scent from the pillowcase,
the remembered childhood hymn.
When you are away,
the instant when your lips
would radiate kisses
before my next move.