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…