• Dear Ma-

    Your memory walks the halls of this house
    Your clothes are
    Laying in your closet.
    Folded.
    Like you're still here.

    People call the house,
    People asking for Mrs. Huff.
    Letters come in the mail
    Addressed to your name.
    Like you're still here.

    I act like your absence isn't killing me on the inside
    Slowly.
    Like chocolate held in a childs sweaty hand for to long.
    I miss your smile and your eyes
    I see them all around the house.
    But they're not really you.
    just pictures.

    On your dresser, clothes inside folded tightly
    Pictures of you are proped up in silver and gold frames.
    The box of your ashes still sitting there
    In that grey cardboard box
    Since February 11th

    And Ma,
    If you forget
    We are still living and breathing
    walking and talking,
    just pretending
    Like you're still here