Read, these are the names of the things that

Read, these are the names of the things that

Read, these are the names of the things that

you left me books your perfume

scattered around the room; dreams for

half and double pain, kisses for

all over the body like deep cuts

that will never heal; and books, longing,

the key to a home that was never the

wow, a blue flannel robe that

I have dressed while making this list:

books, laughs that I can't fix,

and anger - a vase of orchids that

loved so much without me knowing why and

that maybe that's why I didn't water again; and

books, the bed undone for so many days,

a letter on your pillow quite

heartbreak, such loneliness; and in a drawer

two tickets for a love movie that

you didn't see me, and more books, and also

a faded shirt I sleep with

at night to be closer to you; and for

everywhere, books, so many books, so many

words you never said to me before

letter you wrote this morning, and I,

I still believe that you will return, that

come back, even if it's just for your books.