The Calendar Hung Itself

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you, incessantly, from the space between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school, with his feet inside your shoes?
Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you?
Oh, Does he know that place below your neck that’s your favorite to be touched?
And does he cry through broken sentences like, «I love you far too much»?
Does he lay awake listening to your breath?
Worried you smoke too many cigarettes?
Is he coughing now?
On a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile
There’s a thousand more
You won’t ever see