handfuls of air

When I needed you most, you were there,

a phantom sprawled in the passenger seat,

right foot propped and knees drooping wide,

thin fingers loosely gripping the grab handle,

casting a closed-mouth smile at me,

a smile that felt the length of the day

and felt my heavy thoughts sloshing,

anxiety draining from my nerves.

And you knew that I was enough

and that there would be rest

and that, yes, this too shall pass

as I turned into the apartment lot

and bitter relief washed over me

and the orange lamps washed over you,

slicing strips from your gentle smile.

Too tired for shock, I smiled right back.

This is the realest you'd ever be.

When I needed you most, you were there,

and never again.