Midnight

Midnight

He holds my hand as we fall asleep:

our fingers wound together

like the binding of a well-worn book,

the edges of our feet resting against each other -

still beneath jersey sheets.

I can hear the precise moment he slips away from the waking world:

hot breath sneaking past barely-parted lips -

a whispered whistle in the dark.

Pure blackness envelops us as our digits disentangle.

I journey alone to the other side.