I'm sweeping up the last bit of your hair.
I've already steamed the couches and rid them of your scent.
You're gone.
And now my memory is jogged.
From time to time things jog my memory.
Things like walking out the front door, those times you tried to run away.
And taking a bath, you bathed here once.
And laying in my bed where your warmth was welcomed.
Mundane things that I can't escape.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
I'm sweeping up the last bit of your hair.
I've already steamed the couches and rid them of your scent.
You're gone.
And now my memory is jogged.
From time to time things jog my memory.
Things like walking out the front door, those times you tried to run away.
And taking a bath, you bathed here once.
And laying in my bed where your warmth was welcomed.
Mundane things that I can't escape.
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