I miss you in the normal times;
right before I go to sleep every night,
because you are no longer there to hold me while I drift
into my dreams or kiss me goodnight on the forehead like you used to do.
I miss you when I drive by our favorite frozen yogurt
place, where I got strawberry yogurt on my nose
and you told me you loved me for the very first time.
I sit down and cry when I fold the clean laundry
and find your old tee shirt in the dryer.
But it is eleven in the morning on a Thursday
and I cannot shake this heaviness.
two thirty on a Saturday I miss you when I cannot open
the jar of pickles and I drop them on the floor.
my head does not slow down anymore.
I miss you at the most inconvenient times
and it has been months now that you’ve
been gone. When will my hands stop aching?
When will I remember to stop leaving
a place for you at the dinner table?
When will the stars stop dancing for us?
it is eight at night and someone on the
television made a joke and I looked over
at where you used to sit
to see if you laughed, too.
The walls collapsed around me.