Unfaithful in Death

I rise from bed,
covered in dust.
It stings my eyes
and tattoos my lips.
I taste you
in its dryness
and realise
that it is not dust,
but ash,
and recall we cremated you,
against your wishes,
and now I pay the price
of you in my lungs,
forcing me to cough
and wake,
see you beside me,
alive and unblemished,
but missing all the same,
your phone vibrating
with a message
from a false name.