We've been here one too many times,    and I can recite you line for line.      I keep my poems underneath my pillow   so the ink seeps deep inside my dreams.      If you can only hear the light I see you in.   If you can only feel the words I wrap you in.      And then I woke up and stood and I stopped and stared   and I watched and listened and finally realized that it is just me.      I feel miserable and it feels wonderful.      The whole way home, with no hands, I held onto the hopes of holding you.