The alarm clock in your room
blinks perpetual midnight
i cannot bear to change it
i don’t know why
i find its movement calming.
your bed is made
which means you’re not here
a poignant reminder of your absence
parents don’t want to clear
the bedrooms of departed children
i haven’t seen a sunny day since you left
(and prolly neither have you)
i feel like much of my usefulness
was packed away in the corduroy bag
that left with you on that chilly night.