You carefully stepped over
my tattered stuffed animal
as you have each morning this week
never questioning its placement
on the living room carpet
of our one-bedroom apartment
I try not to disturb your peace
as you soundly sleep
every night bundled in sheets
when the hour of existential dread
beckons me to leave your side
I take the animal by mine
we travel the long journey
across the hall in the dark
to our spot on the carpet
and release muted cries
every night I decide to leave it
with hope that you’ll notice
the flare that was released
I have no other signals.
I used to cry next to you.
Your sleep just deepened.
collective musings 