Some days

Some days I miss you like the ocean pouring over the edge of the world
Uncountable gallons of water rushing into nothingness
In a roaring, pounding endless movement, impossible to drown out.

Other days you are a bruise on my heart
I only remember the hurt when I bump into the accidental memory of you:
When someone makes an offhanded comment about the linguistics of the Seneca Nation
Or I pass exit 18 on the Mass Turnpike.

Tonight I did not watch the sunset
I went shopping and did the laundry and the dishes and vacuumed my rug,
Exercises I refuse to turn into a metaphor of missing you.
I did miss you anyway
An ache to match the distant hum of my sleep-deprived headache building up behind my eyes.

When I finally lay down, exhaustion a twisting pain in my back and neck
I lay in bed with my eyes wide open staring at the ceiling.
I had to turn on the fan so something would drown out the constant murmur of your name in my ears.