every morning i wake up wrapped around your contours,
whether you're there beside me or not.
after all, a jigsaw piece can't just forget his shape,
nor claim some geometry that isn't his.

so i frequently wake up puzzled,
when you're not there as my waking outline,
and i share a languid exchange of diametrically opposed stares with a little kitten;

the one who freaks out when you're here, and the other who saves it for when you're gone.