sometimes,
when our home feels too big,
i would glance at the wall
between our bedrooms.
i would trace the faded
pencil markings where
we used to mark how tall
we've grown each year.
i would crane my neck
and imagine how tall you'd be
if you were home right now.
i would never say i miss you,
but the traces of you at home
makes this place a house
deprived of warmth.