"You are the lipstick stainsIn colors I could never wearLeft on the brims of mugs I haven’t..."

“You are the lipstick stains

In colors I could never wear

Left on the brims of mugs I haven’t touched

Since you left.

You are the way I avoid certain parts of the apartment

Because sunset in the living room

Is too much like midnight in the kitchen

Is too much like mornings tangled together on your side of the bed.

You are the cigarette butts I didn’t smoke

Still sitting in the ashtray on the patio.

You are the way the stair rail still creaks because

“I’ll fix it next week, I promise.”

You are every “next week” that never happened

Piled so high, I can’t fit anymore “would-be"s

Into the shelf space in my closet.

I am riding on fumes–

The way the corner of the couch still

Smells likes you, if I close my eyes

And want it bad enough.

The way I sometimes turn on the TV

To your favorite channel

And forget it wasn’t you who left it there.

You are the reason I keep falling asleep

At my desk in the office

Because my side of the bed feels too empty

Without you breathing there beside me.”

- You Are the Ghosts in My Window, by Ashe Vernon