Leave then,
but leave them behind

You say,
Wrapping your arms around
the waste, protecting
a pile of photographs

The weight would
break my body

I say,
Turning my back to
this Burden you’ve built
on the floor of our house

You’re hoarding memories,
but you do not ask Me

To stay,
Searching through the pile
for a shadow. The floor creaks.

If you move it may crumble.

(Can you still breathe?
)