i can see in your little ringlets clumped around your ears and pushed off your neck
how you tried so hard to stop him
and i can see your ***** and chewed-off fingernails
how difficult it was for you to leave
on a cold morning from his warm arms,
from those four walls, and the full kitchen, and the blankets and the coffee and the books.

you're brushing your teeth in the sink next to me
and you're not looking at the mirror
or anything.
your purse fell off the counter and a few things fell out
hairspray; a ballpoint pen; a tube of mascara; a bottle of water.
i don't know why these things were the only ones i remembered.
why didn't i look closer at your face?
because when i handed you your pen you didn't say anything,
just held open the bag and stretched your lips into an almost-smile.
i remember your bangs covering over half your face,
and i remember the cut just below the left half of your lips.

i remember the way your permanently-damp skin clung to your bones,
like dew on a flower,
and the sides of your shoes were falling apart.

i wish i could tell you how much of an impact you had on me in those 30 seconds,
but even more- i wish you found home and that you're happy.