I woke with a start to find myself in full garb
lying atop a computer, a cord and next to a woman:
the only real woman that's ever shared my bed.

I had been dressed to allow her a glimpse
of all my potential, all of my charm, my self
and the depths of what I felt for her.
She had elected to stay, despite her rebuttal
and the frantic pace with which her schedule
tends to change.

The prior evening, she had refused a kiss
and fled into the obscurity of the crowd.
Now as she moves against me so that
my arms may wrap about her with ease,
she apologizes, and leans into me,
requesting with lips the kiss that had been disregarded.

Today I wake to no one sharing my comfort
other than my cat, and the pillows I always keep.
I remember exactly how she looked, laying
so still with such deep breaths, on her side.
I had high hopes for her company, but it was not to be.
She had seen the good in me, but it was not
the good she had been seeking.