Sep 30, 2018
Oh, he did a number on me. I drink his favorite tea, I keep boxes of it stocked in my pantry I listen to the music he played in his car, those old songs feel more like belonging than the ones I used to listen to I cook his favorite meals and lessen the salt I use though I used to use it on everything I have stopped buying bell peppers I watch his shows on the TV I still write poetry in his name but I am to blame for the marks he left on me I so dearly yearned to keep him that I let him stain my being I didn’t prepare for the moment he left, this house seems dauntingly empty and I am even more bereft.