A loose strand of hair
Threaded on my sleeve
Along with the keychain
Each time I leave
An empty space
On our bookshelf
I know she’ll be back
That’s what I tell myself
Our nursery empty
Except for a tote
A pregnancy journal
With poems I wrote
The bed we had shared
Is there no more
Now there’s an imprint
Where I sleep on the floor
No kitchen table
Do you miss our dinners
Since then I’ve missed many
And keep getting thinner
Phone always near me
But nothing comes through
This house is no home
Without both of you