I pretend you’re still here,
By keeping the sock drawer half-open
With one tongue slipping out
When I leave your favorite wool shirt laid out on bed,
Casually, almost
As a remainder of your whoosh washing movement around our bedroom
That always leaves me drenched in your rain
I pretend you’re still here
When I place your comfy Jesus sandals erratically,
Naturally,
By the side of the bed, although I stumble upon them
Occasionally
Although I seldom ask you to put them away
As an emblem of the chaos your storm creates
I silently call your name when I walk in
Babe, I’m home under my bitten tongue
The silence calls me back coyly
Too afraid to hurt my feelings one more time
I pretend you’re still here
But cannot carry it forever
The heat has already wilted away the roses you got me last
****** the air from the baby breathes that resemble my hair
And the dance from my curls
Dry washed your last worn button-down from your odor
On what do I lean now?
My books have shut down their ears to me,
They no longer allow me to be their bedfellow
They no longer welcome my sunken head in their laps
They shoo me away, with kind words nonetheless
The heat has given me his last notice
I will have to remove your coffee cup from the bed stand
I have to slip your book back into the shelf
We both know you won’t be reading it anymore…