I still wait for the phone to ring
so that I may hear your voice again
but I'm left with wishes only.

Some nights I'll keep it close, passing
it nervously from hand to hand for
no reason at all. It stays quiet.

Tossing and turning on the bed,
sleepless I'll stare up at the ceiling
and pretend it's a lit night sky.

I'll talk to the spot that was yours
as the illusion of comets glide
down to imaginary fields.

And though I'm alone it'll feel right,
the way nothing ever does now days,
Your shadow accompanying me.

My room will turn into those nights
you have probably forgotten,
the ones in which we shared happiness.

I wonder
If you miss
that at all.