You don't come home to my embrace,
wanting instead the bed, sinking into it
like a cut-down log, face down.
Tired to say hello or share an evening meal,
you know I don't mind missing another one.
After all, fasting sheds weight of anxieties.
But I am past the fog induced by your abstention.
My craving disappeared. The new clarity is as striking
as the gap between us in the bed.
In a couple more weeks, the detox will complete
purging us of each other.
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