These years--but it has only been one--
only been eight months and
I don't remember how many days

how many nights did I sleep
with you in my dreams, to wake
without you in my arms

It is hard. You are not here
you will never be here
but I am, and I have forgotten

how to be here. How to hear
the ticking of a clock you gave me
when it was snowing on my birthday--

No, I think it was Christmas. Did it
snow on my birthday that year?
I only remember you

wearing that ridiculous hat
that hat you always--but
never mind, because

the clock still ticks.
I remember to keep it wound
like you always always told me to

but I can't hear it. There is something
wrong with me, and I can't remember
what it is.