The furniture has been rearranged,
old books thrown out, music shuffled;
the study is newly organized
and even the drapes have been changed.
But there’s still a box under the table
full of things I cannot throw away –
letters, journals, silly little things
that all remind me of you.
Maybe I should get a haircut,
maybe a new wardrobe too;
maybe when I do things differently,
I can get acquainted with this strange room
and not wonder about why things changed.
Then maybe I can finally begin
that long pending task of moving on;
and follow through with my goodbye.
Because how do you end a connection
when you simply turn around and walk away,
never uttering what needs to be said,
and secretly clinging to your fleeting memories?
How do you say it’s over and that it’s gone,
but forget about how a break up is done?
I find that there is no other way to quit you
than by accepting you won’t be here anymore.
Yet the box still stays under the table
to gather dust and dirt; be the nuisance
that no matter how it gets annoying
I can’t have the heart to put away.
Rooms change but it cannot erase you.
Every time it tries to, it feels like
a part of me is wretched away, too.
I realize I can’t quit you after all.
Advertisement