Suffice to say
that if you came back,
I would throw open my arms
and dance, love,
     because it's easier
     than falling prostrate
        on an unswept floor.

The door remains unlocked
in case you try
  to come back home
  but have forgotten your key.
     There's one beneath the mat:
     back left corner.
        Although it's possible
       that you've forgotten by now,
           so I sleep easier
           leaving it open.
If someone should enter,
I have nothing to steal.

Some things have changed:
  The cat has run away
       and I've learned
     to find strength
  in solitude.
But I still wear
     that blue dress
  that you always loved,
and I like to pretend
I can still make out your scent
     among the cotton fibers
   as they rub together
when I dance to a familiar song.
And I do still dance.

Once you return
we can re-lock the gate.
The neighborhood's not safe
    like it used to be.