I slid the empty packet back under the pillow;
And walked out of the dreary room.
The rhythm of your breathing made me stop a while,
But, nothing could prevent me from taking the final step.

I heard the wind chimes clank away in a distance,
The familiar sounds and smells held me back.
Running my hand across the portrait,
I spent a tear in useless memory.

Stains of blood still remained in the cracks on the table,
The blade was long thrown out,
Left behind was the destruction it caused.
The swell in my hand itched.

Tired of picking up after you;
I let your leftover rubbish remain as it was.
The house seemed to eat at me,
Urgency hit me like cold, harsh wind.

Homeless but in lesser pain,
I’ll light the past in vain.
Forming memories against what was,
I’ll live again, maybe, for another cause.

Forgive me, in the light of a new day.
If you might, give the old rubbish away.
Stow away the unused passion, soon,
It will surely be a new morning, this June.

Sunshine, marmalades;
Pretty lights and torn curtains.
We’ll hold each other again,
In some other lifetime.