I never knew how much I’d see you after you left.
Horse stickers stuck to telephone poles,
A lizard in a gum wrapper in my backpack.
Undressed played on the radio and
your ex girlfriend’s ponytail on the elliptical.
Your cup of water still by my bedside,
It reminds me of you, I won’t pour it out.
Your picture under my pillow,
because everything is you and I
cannot bear the day that it isn’t.
The bar on my 21st and animals on golf courses,
every beer tastes of your lips.
All poems are a dog whistle to you,
so is the toy you pulled from my mouth
and so is the slobber you left behind.
Every girl I meet that stole your name
never wears it as well as you.
I use your shirts as pillowcases
and your hoodies as hugs,
every step I take in Chicago without you
is a dance around your arms.
I hope to never stop seeing you
in the empty space between stars
and in the air you used to occupy.
I see you more,
now that you’re gone.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:24 PM UTC
I never knew how much I’d see you after you left.
Horse stickers stuck to telephone poles,
A lizard in a gum wrapper in my backpack.
Undressed played on the radio and
your ex girlfriend’s ponytail on the elliptical.
Your cup of water still by my bedside,
It reminds me of you, I won’t pour it out.
Your picture under my pillow,
because everything is you and I
cannot bear the day that it isn’t.
The bar on my 21st and animals on golf courses,
every beer tastes of your lips.
All poems are a dog whistle to you,
so is the toy you pulled from my mouth
and so is the slobber you left behind.
Every girl I meet that stole your name
never wears it as well as you.
I use your shirts as pillowcases
and your hoodies as hugs,
every step I take in Chicago without you
is a dance around your arms.
I hope to never stop seeing you
in the empty space between stars
and in the air you used to occupy.
I see you more,
now that you’re gone.