Cocamedo

Empty

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