Poltergeist

I will not see your face when I wake.  I will forget the way our bodies softly touch beneath a haze of sighs.  I will ignore that your lips do something to me which the depth of words cannot reach.  The way your tongue writes poetry in the roof of my mouth.  How you cause me to misplace my name with your kiss.  I will not stand naked in front of the mirror envisioning myself through your eyes.  Or trace my fingers over the parts of my skin where your hands still burn beneath my flesh.  I will disregard the way you make my body numb with want.  I will not whisper your name into the empty bathtub when the lukewarm water begins to drain.  Or wrap myself in your arms when I lay down.  You are not the last thing on my mind when I drift off to sleep.  You do not exist.  You do not exist.  You do not exist.