I remember the
Morning she
Said "goodbye"
Instead
Of "I love you."
?Looking around
The room
Clothes hung from the side
Of the laundry basket,
Books sat half-finished
On the bookshelf,
Her dresser drawer, empty now,
Was still open.

A chickadee was
Singing outside
And her now vacant spot
On my bed was
A valley of
Forgotten pillows.

The blankets twisted
Like a river
Through it,
She had taken months, to
Find the right patterns
For them.

I glanced to the windowsill
She used to keep her
Hair binders on. There were
Small rings of dust
Around their spot.

I still sleep on
The right side of
And that chickadee
Sings again, every morning.

But the pillows and blankets.
Have lost their form.

You either feel
like you're going to die
or
you feel like
you're already dead.

I've known you long enough.
I know it when you hold your body just so,
And this movement is invisible to others,
But I know when your muscles tense
And when your heart tenses
And when your world tenses
You will strike.

It's so subtle, your actions are known only to yourself.
And me.
I won't help you, you need to solve your own problems.
But that doesn't mean that I can't sit in the distance and admire
Your beautiful patchwork.