You left behind your scent.

Some books,
couple of bottles of shampoo,
and a million
trifle little things.

Like the label on the sugar jar
with your handwriting,
(those giant loops on your g's
remind me of your earrings).

You took the good curtains
and left me the ones you knew
I wasn't fond of.

Take 'em down, I used to say.

But you said they looked good
and now that your gone
I can take them down
but I don't.

A week after you left
I tried to show a new friend
one of my published poems
but
all I found
was a note you left behind
in its place
(the page you tore out
in one of your fits)

It read:

How does it feel to have something

so close to you taken away?

from Flipside Magazine #106 March/April 1997