May

The pharmacy coupon arrived in the glow

of my phone while I sat on the edge of the bed.

A discount for vitamins I’ll never need

for a person who only exists in my head.

I dug through the drawer for a hair tie today

and moved a box that was tucked in the rear.

The plastic stick with its single blue line

is the only proof that you were ever here.

I leaned my forehead on the bathtub's rim,

the porcelain biting, indifferent and white.

There is no noise for a loss like this,

just the sound of the faucet dripping all night.