Lingering

I make breakfast for two

And as I set your plate out of habit

I remember you are gone.

…

Not here anymore,

Your things are packed

Into one bag, waiting

To be picked up.

I set it outside

To avoid painful contact

And unnecessary conversation.

…

My heart has a huge gaping hole.

I can’t see it, but I feel the pain.

I move on autopilot and

Linger around your presence:

Your favorite armchair,

You sat in it just a day ago.

…

The ashtray still has two cigarette butts

I hated when you smoked but you couldn’t quit.

…

My computer still flashes an email

You sent to your new lover in a different town.

I’d sent you there for a seminar and paid for it.

…

"My love, I'll see you soon."

I suspect that you left the email open on purpose

So I would discover it and you could avoid facing me.

…

We had that conversation only once in our life,

When I told you I trusted you fully but

If I ever had firm evidence of betrayal

I’d just kick you out, with no scandal. No drama.

Simply pack your things and put them at the door, outside.

…

And this is exactly what I’ve done.

Our apartment feels cold and deafeningly quiet

But I’m grateful for the lesson, I tell myself,

While dropping our wedding invitations into the trash.