The boxes are piling against the door,
my clothes are strewn across the floor,
each fold holds the shadow of a time with you
every thread the touch of your skin
you smiled when I wore this dress

It lies balled up in a bag,
tight crumples,
violently creased

the creases,
and crumbles
and crying
I am wringing the tears from my heart
I am crying my love and it won't leave me
I am twisting it and it still will not tear
it sits in that bag
tightly crumpled.