Do I exist?

I am alive,
or do I exist?

The night has lifted only halfway
from our eyelids.
I check your pulse to see
If I still live beneath the surface of your skin.

Am I still the one?

I left you a handwritten letter
inside the shirts I ironed this morning.
I hope you find it one day
when the fog between us has lifted.

Not sooner.

I am alive,
or do I exist?

Can you hold my light
when the darkness has swallowed us both?
When you’re looking through a bricked-up window
built from memories thrashing blindly between us.

And I wonder:

I am alive,
or do I exist —
for you?