This loneliness is carefully misplaced,
pure as a body saddled with a soul.

Its static is pre-arranged. Its breath, foggy and
unlabored. It flows the way light fills an empty

space. I wait for it to thaw, to catch its
reflection on the mirror by the bathroom sink.

I am sure it will be surprised by its stillness. I am sure
it will begin to wonder where that dull ache thrives.