and it’s like we’re living
on the wrong side of a “what if” scenario—
the part of the movie
that would have happened if the main guy
had made a bad decision.
memories of you float across
a quiet, empty part of my heart,
tiny fragments of the beginning of a life
not filled out
unfinished pages from a coloring book
clothes washed only once, then folded and put away.
there is a bag in the top of the closet
and a box of ashes in the armoire
and all the words have been said—
how many times and ways can I rearrange them
when they all just spell
and Oh God, help.
it just rains.