Truth is,

I still look for your car

when I drive past our old house.

I still pause at the sound

of your ringtone,

like maybe you changed your mind

and you’re coming back.

Truth is,

I didn’t know how to say

“please stay”

without sounding selfish.

So I smiled when you packed,

hugged you too quickly,

and dealt with my feelings later.

Truth is,

everything feels different

without your hugs and laughs.

I ate mashed potatoes last week

and cried

because they didn’t taste like yours.

I’m learning how to fill

the quiet you left.

How to get over my confusion

About why you would leave me

when you knew how dad was.

But some days

I just sit in it.

Let it fester and build.

Truth is,

I think about calling you,

yelling and screaming

to make you understand

just how bad this made me feel.

But I don’t.

I write poems and papers.

To try to feel closer to you.

I don’t always send them,

but I hope you can hear them

anyway.