There was always something different
The way the air would feel suddenly
Cold, empty, but also suffocating at the same time
The way the floor creaked a little less
And everything was casually vacant;
You made me feel beautiful, alive
faultless like every star created by god
I was suddenly nothing.
But you used to sit in the kitchen chair
Every morning, one cup of Joe—1 sugar, 2 creams
I would make your eggs, while you
Read the paper of uneventful news.
You would look at me
With those hazel eyes,
But there were constellations in them.
By afternoon, you lay on the couch
Watching your show.
You always bite your nails when it gets intense,
Drink the Dr. Pepper, it’s a sense of
You were winsome and ravishing
Majestic and, Oh so magical
You used to lie there
Right behind me, with one hand
Tucked around my waist
Your face, still and somber
I could feel the rhythm of your
But an early silence
The air moving through the vents every 40 seconds
The birds chirp, the squirrels run, the rain still falls
But nothing in the place we called home
Your heavenly eyes will always be my favorite, even if
They don’t look at me the same anymore.