Without method

Onanists, the lovers.
The patient and the impatient,
we have always worked, floundering,
against our best intentions.

Despite this, my sheets never were the same,
after you stopped spending time with them,
nor this carpet, nor the chairs.

And somehow,later, in your absence,
it felt like everything had been moved
slightly, to the left.
I missed the key hole,
every time I approached the lock.

And ultimately, when I would lay down at night,
I felt every dip of a finger print,
and every indent of a tongue.
And ultimately,
every day I woke up
acutely aware of
the spaces you pulled out of.