& he left

at 6 in the morning
like a cat burglar
stealing blue shirts, red striped ties
& stuffing my belongings in Calvin's underwear

well they was mine
till he left

smelling sour
from last night
but sweet from my perfume
with his fat ashy black feet
in grey & white socks

i guess it didn't bother him
they was mismatched
when he left

on a grey Sunday morning
i recall
the rain slid down the pane
the same way he did
outta bed
outta the door  
outta my life

quiet & slow
like a baby breathing
as he left

he swished his mouth out
with cheap champagne
closed the door
like a good novel
with reserve
& without sound

he left