A Crease in the Sheets

A crease in the sheets
Looked just like your feet,
But I knew you had left.
So I straightened the bed.
Half-hoping to find
You were lying inside.

I imagined you'd say
That you'd got off the plane
You'd decided to stay.
Or that maybe, you'd say
That you'd had to return,
Or that someone had learned
That you shouldn't have gone.
But my image was wrong.

It was only the sheets.
It wasn't your feet.