May 9, 2017
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And you do so much
I am sitting on my bed,
Once our bed,
When I hear a knock on the
Shaky oak apartment door.
A furtive knock
Only we knew.
Used by you when you used
To come home late from work
And I would be anxious alone,
So you knocked in that way
Just so I would know it was you.
You always loved me
Even when I was full of anxiety.
I take meek steps over to the door
Creating unrealistic scenarios in my head
Of how this moment would go.
I’ve been waiting for you to come back
I even have your favorite wine in the kitchen.
I swing open the door
And you grab it fast,
Making sure that the infamous creak in the door
Remains quiet.
It is three in the morning
And only the moon is illuminating you
And my house.
You are my home. 
In the room with you walks an opaque shadow
And the smell of cigarette smoke,
I thought you quit.
I try to ask you what things were like,
So far away on the trip you had to take.
I hope you found yourself like you wanted.
I open my mouth and mousey breath is all that comes out.
Yet when your mouth opens,
A habit of three words falls out
Feeling as meaningless as a cracked window,
As sharp as a dull knife.
As painless as a bee sting.
“Can I get you some wine?
I still have your favorite on the rack.”
Your translucent lips
Curl around my favorite mug,
Filled with a numbing cabernet 
And they soon find my pale neck;
The spot just above my sallow colored collar bones
Where he can feel my coursing heartbeat.
I see you have found yourself,
I am happy for you.
Every kiss you place on my lips is tainted with regret
And I can hear a faint apology in each breath.
You whisper to me that up in Seattle,
Where it is wet and cold,
You found the women of your dreams.
So his bags you unpacked thirty minutes prior
Are going to be refilled in thirty more.
You knew it wouldn't end well.
But maybe if you unpacked his bags
And scattered his clothes all over the floor,
It would be too hard to pick back up
And he would be forced to stay.

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