I will leave your
Plums in the icebox
However, cold and sweet they may be

I will not borrow a cigarette
Or inhale
What you've released

I will leave that typewriter
Alone, and
All of it's working keys

I will not collect afterthoughts
That you ball up
And discard nightly

I will no longer consume your words
Like cyanide, and
Sun-warmed tea

I will let the worms consume you
So you may
Sleep in peace