The door creaking slowly, I walk into the musty apartment
That smells of death and alcohol and stagnant memories.
It’s mostly empty, this place where you spent your final days.
Some cherry incense here and there; smoke and vanilla hung in the air
Acrid remnants of your smell.
The silence clashes with the memory of your screaming.
Old bruises feel fresh again, a figment of my imagination.
I remind myself that I loved you once, before you threw me away.
The tokens from our romance had all been burned and buried;
Letters and symbols of affection. I’d gotten rid of every piece of our romance.
But your few boxed up items had been passed to me when you stopped breathing.
Now I have the possessions you spent the rest of your life with.
I don’t know if I want them.
It hits me like lightning; the memory of your lips hard against mine.
You’d almost killed me, inside and out, yet the memories were fond.
The cobwebs on my feelings fall away and all your promises flood back.
Did you know that you would die alone like this? Did you know?
It had been years since we’d spoken; and now it’s too late.
But that’s okay. I have nothing to say to you.
I hunt through your tiny two-room, looking for something to remind me
Of the hideous summer we spent, falling in love and breaking our hearts.
Only a few things remained; you sold it all away to keep your habits.
The only thing I find is a note tucked in under your bed.
“If you love her, let her go; if she comes back she’s yours.
If she doesn’t… she never was.”
I was never yours.
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