on this visit
i was expecting to find you still tucked beneath the exhausted fleece
with crumbled skin wrinkled against flat pillows
and your curls, tangled and damp from night sweats
but the house was awake and empty
messages left on the bathroom mirror
in steamy shower paint
of moisture that i had just missed you
minutes ago
my belongings packed in used cardboard
stacked in the entryway
one next to the other
you did it for me
barren bookshelves
empty and lonely
searching for the words i had collected
of poetry in journals
music, politics, biochemistry
our albums
those pictures
taken in love
on vacation
over fancy french dinners
in a northern snowy city
or hammock naps in the carribbean
on this visit i was a stranger
in a house that was a memory
and i found the boxes heavy
as i moved myself away
Comments
I like the emotional turn of this. Goes from wistful rmembrances to heartwrench of moving out and moving on...