Carry-On

I watch her through

the ribbon of light —

a common mediator for

the door and its long-abused wall,

paint-cracked from years of impact.

*

She isn’t my world,

but I want her to be.

My world is greyness,

stuffed between formal dresses,

folding under a pile of worn heels.

*

I once carried more

than just her clothes.

She trusted me with keepsakes,

old photo albums, and souvenirs

she would give to her mom.

*

We went everywhere together —

Paris, New York, Athens,

a village in Ohio called Rome.

She wore flowers and flamingos,

collecting t-shirts and worn heels.

*

She loved me.

She bought me stickers

from the places we went.

I wore them like the résumé

of a seasoned world-traveler.

*

But one day, we stopped traveling.

She started seeing someone new

who didn’t care about

the Seven Wonders of the world

or the languages she could speak.

*

I still saw her, though.

It was always at night,

and she’d be in a hurry,

trying to get somewhere,

anywhere away from home.

*

I’d sit in the passenger seat

as she’d spill to me

secrets of her hatred,

thoughts of a different life,

and tears I tried to hold.

*

We’d wait in her driveway,

dreaming idly about places we’d been,

things we still wanted to see.

She would plan on traveling again

and make other promises she’d never keep.

*

We haven’t gone somewhere in years.

Maybe it’s because I’m broken.

My sides are splitting.

I’m old,

ugly,

worn in.

*

I dropped her favorite book

in a murky puddle

on the side of the street.

She cried and whispered

that she used to trust me.

*

But this morning,

my ribbon of light

became a window,

and she held me like

we were never apart.

*

Our journey continued toward

Sunset Boulevard,

and I sat in the passenger seat,

hoping she knew

what she meant to me.

*

Then, she brought me somewhere

I’d never been before —

a vault of unwanted clutter

at the back of a store.

A treasure hunt, maybe?

*

I carried for her

the pile of worn heels,

years of memories scraped by.

And she left me there

to be forgotten.