Sometimes

Sometimes, I wonder if he can hear me. If he can hear my cries from heaven. If he can hear my screams for him. I wonder if he listens to me beg for him to come back. I wonder if he can feel me. I wonder if he can sense my presence by his grave. I wonder if he feels my hands reaching out for his body, knowing it's phantom. I wonder if he sees me dancing by myself in our living room. I wonder if he sees me cooking for two, with one dinner mat set. I wonder if he sees me looming over his office door, Scared to touch what is set in time. Because I hear his voice everywhere. I hear his morning alarm before mine, fucking haunting me. Because I feel him inside my soul. I feel him in the fleeting winds, and in the falling rains. I feel him hands on my body every waking moment, like past tattoos of distant nostalgia. I see him on the opposite end of the table every evening. I see him dancing with me, holding me against his chest. I see him whenever I make dinner, standing near the fridge, speaking of work. I see him engraved footsteps and hand marks leading to the office. I miss him, if you couldn't tell. My beautiful boy, taken away far too early. little ghosts of the past haunt me, and i am forever grateful.