Ebony hands don’t hesitate to continue their
clockwise journey to a new day.
There is no misstep in the sun’s persistent rise and
set on the days of your absence
With a clear conscience and all our memories
lodged in the back of my mind as if you had
reprogrammed me with your sublime kisses and
deceitful actions,
I have to admit,
I miss you.
However, there is no way I would ever tell you that,
But if stepped into my room and investigated,
you could figure it out.
Because if you would spark up a conversation with
my ceiling,
It would gossip about intense staring contests
we’ve had at 4 AM.
If you cross-examined my covers,
They would confide in you about their nightmares
of the repeated rinse cycles from when I did my
best to get the smell of you off of them.
If you had a conversation with my TV,
It would complain about how it cannot enjoy a
romantic movie scene without me swiftly casting it
out of sight with a single click.
If you cared to speak to my mattress,
It would confess that we’ve been bonding way
more since you’ve been gone.
If my fridge was willing to open up to you,
It would reach out to you because there’s been
way more alcohol than actual food in there for
quite a while now.
I would never tell you,
But if you cared enough to find out, you could
figure out that I do miss you.
If you cared enough to find out,
You would see that things haven’t been the same
since you walked out that door.
