home
our house
once filled with bickering and crying and pleas for attention
now silent
the last standing bastion of us
the furniture we put together
my childhood Wii you jailbroke
my Switch with your profile still on it
next to the TV our dads carried down the stairs
the cabinet stuffed with your board games
the beer in the fridge and
the liquor you wouldn’t move out of sight
with your soda boxes in the corner—
(the coke is for cocktails
and i’m not allowed to drink it)
i start to miss sleeping beside you
your warmth and your breath
but instead i think about tonight—
how i cracked jokes freely
knowing if you were there you would have rolled your eyes and said i wasn’t funny
how i relished in hearing the music and poetry of my friends
knowing you wouldn’t have asked me about it later anyways
and how my friends hugged me and held my hands and planted kisses on my cheeks
remembering all of the times i had tried to kiss you in public
only to have you turn your head away so my lips would catch in your hair instead
i thought about the cigarettes i smoked
feeling you swat them away
“that’s bad for you”
with your third glass of whiskey in your other hand.
i think of the warmth of people who truly love me
while i lay swaddled in the duvet you hated
surrounded by the plushies you wanted hidden in the closet
the house may be dark
but now i am full of light