habit

it doesn't seem real now
moss-covered days
trading glimpses, heads at angles
air kisses, one from you
two from me
the same coffee from the same barista
day, night, day
effortless weeks
sometimes when i see your ghost
my lips kiss the names
of everyone i've ever loved
before finding yours
so it doesn't feel real, to dream
your creased eyes
holding in them what they held
burning peace
dust floating listlessly in the clouds

day, night, day
just one ship, waiting in one port
indifferent to the passing of time