I need to put away the things.
Let’s start wit the easy stuff.
Sweep my room- there, your hair and skin follicles are gone.
Your slippers are under my bed, your underwear and socks in my drawer
Toothbrush in my bathroom.
Your pictures from your trips- you want those back?
Your messenger bag that was replaced by the backpack I gave you.
Remember your feigned surprise? You’re a bad liar.
You really like that backpack
I got the color you wanted and took great measure to wrap it even though you already knew what was inside.
That was our first Christmas together, before we broke.
Before I knew those apartment brouchers would break me everytime I look at them
Get rid of those.
Your motorcycle helmet is in my closet. It still smells of you. The old perfume, not the new ones I bought you. I don’t like them.
The pictures, lock them.
The image of your face as you held my mothers hand in the hospital…
That one is more difficult.
The poetry? It keeps flowing from my fingertips and sent into the atmosphere, reaching no one.
You’re asleep, on the right side of the bed, your legs curled up behind me, hand placed over my stomach.
The memory of your voice and the sound as you whisper “you’re amazing”
The tear that rolls down your cheek because you finally didn’t have to be strong anymore
I have to get rid of all of that and accept the absence
But I don’t know how to get rid of the place you left in my heart or the possibility of