Dish Soap

Sometimes I think about you when I do the dishes.

I pour the half empty bottle of Dawn onto a sponge.

As I see the ocean blue liquid drip on to the sponge

I am reminded of how you said you loved doing the dishes.

It was our compromise

Because I hate doing the dishes.

If we ever moved in together you said you would always do them.

But you started to change

Change into someone I didn’t recognize.

Someone that I began to hate.

And now I am in an empty apartment without you.

And I am thankful.

Thankful that I grew into someone who doesn’t need your judgement.

I changed into someone I love.

Someone who has a dishwasher.

Just Let Me Sleep

Crawling into bed around

4am.

Wanting to sleep but my body won’t allow me to.

It is the worst.

Being sleepy and not being able to sleep

Because your stomach is growling

Because you haven’t eaten in three days

Because Thanksgiving is coming you are being reminded

Over and over again

That he is gone forever.

And you can’t do a thing about it.

Triggered

Seeing the rain pour on to the car

As we pick up speed reminds me of

The legs in a glass of wine

Which reminds me that I only have one living grandparent

And I just want to stand in the rain and cry.

But I don’t

because I always thought crying was weak

And I don’t want to be labeled as emotional

Even though I’m grieving

Which is normal

And everyone goes through it

But I just can’t get myself to cry.