i look for you
in the faces of strangers
they have your eyes,
eager and sad,
the eyes of instability,
the same brown as an old bruise.

i often wonder why i didn't
inherit your eyes.
perhaps it's a metaphor for all the differences between us?
there must be a reason
more significant than the obvious.

it's easier in the daytime,
when i don't have to think of you.
when there is enough light to keep me concentrated
on the endless distractions
that keep me smiling,
for there is always something to
smile about.

but nighttime is a different universe,
the moon, a lonely thumbnail.
it reminds me of how you used to chew your cuticles
and place them neatly in a little white pile
while we would watch an endless stream
of ****** infomercials.

sometimes you don't realize how much you were in love
with someone's naked habits
until they're gone.

when i was sick,
you would always make sure the washcloth on my forehead
stayed warm.

i miss that.