One pair of boots
deodorant, a toothbrush
two books I still haven't read
Your costume for the Faire
(I'll keep the shirts I bought to share)
One guitar
(you said, "Keep it," but I won't)
neither of us can play.

Taking down the photos
is a more pointed reminder of what's missing
than remembering the smiles,
but they're gone.
I should do laundry tomorrow
to return your socks, one shirt,
and the few pairs of underwear
you threw in last week.
I suppose there's comfort
knowing you hadn't planned to leave.

And should I send the groceries?
All the food I got for two,
the half-eaten carton of your favorite ice cream,
more bagels than I could ever need on my own,
and bottles of iced tea and juice.
Is the mouthwash mine?
I gave it to you,
and there's not much left.
I suppose it seems a silly thing to send.
Using it doesn't make it yours.
Using it doesn't make it yours.
(Not like me.)

I meant every word I said.
But tonight, I'd give you everything
to take it all back.

08/29/2009

Posted on 08/30/2009
Copyright © 2024 Meredith C Hartwell