your footprints are still 
imprinted in my carpet;
around my bed,
towards the door, and
inside my head

I have tried to step over them,
so as not to disturb memories,
but all I seem to do is trace

(now the bottoms of my feet
are blistered and bruised)



started pulling the carpet up today;
every square foot will be changed

you were here for years,
and it will take even more
to finally get your scent
off my back

I framed a piece 
with an imprint of your fist
to remind me 
(of all the things)

I just can’t miss.



06/22/2005
Author's Note: [randall]

saw you today
your hair was long and
you looked strung out

(you were before we dated,
not during, but again after)

I could help you
if I believed in you,
but I am no longer 
willing to risk
being your savior again.

Posted on 06/23/2005
Copyright © 2025 Ava Blu

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Melanie J Yarbrough on 06/23/05 at 03:37 AM
I love both the poem and the author's note. I love the beginning and "your footprints are still imprinted...towards the door" and the ending about the fist and all the things you just can't miss. wonderful piece
Posted by Michelle Angelini on 06/23/05 at 10:26 AM
Jeanna, you write with such clarity and emotion. Sometimes a complete change helps - get rid of the memories and start again. It's too bad you had to have this experience in your life, but I'm sure from it you've gained knowledge about yourself and strength.


~Chelle~