These Hazy Days

I Miss You

I really miss you.
I still have your feathers in
That blue mason jar; it's on the windowsill--
You know, the one in the living room.
I have your black gloves too,
But I have never worn them.

I respect your image and hardly wish
To disrupt the smooth dust
That sheathes my memory of your smile.
You had the straightest teeth, and
I always marveled at your grace--
Every part of you, each limb and blossom,
Connected to form such wit and
Soft cynicism.

I found the fact that
Such loveliness could exist
Rather impossible to swallow.

Still, I never thought you'd go,
That you were serious.
You loved the mist that swathed
The sea, but I loved it too.
I loved you too.

The house is colder since you left.

I feel no comfort in cool sheets,
And my neck aches at night.
I don't even dream anymore.

Well, once I dreamed--a week or two ago--
But you weren't there, nothing was,
Nothing tangible
At least.

I felt a breath, then warmth.
I couldn't speak, but I didn't care.
I think I felt the sun.
Scoff at me from your shadows,
But I really think I did.

Summer is coming soon.
I won't know what to do
With all my empty time.
I had so much planned, Dear.
Now imagining doing anything without you
Makes me so sick
That I find myself always needing
To lie down.