well practiced

the change
of pressure
in my lungs,
I continue
to feel you
breathing my air.

We are linked.

You spent too
many summers
clinging to
the folds of
bed skirts to
believe your
disappearance is
more than
mere migration.

I spent
the best days
of winter in
preparation for
the return of spring.

We are well
practiced at
letting each
other go.

We have done
it so many times.