You visit my dreams, an unwanted happening after the end
We had. I never thought you’d be so lasting, after the end.
I wear your sweatshirt, the big black one, with the pockets
Ripped out at the edges. I kept the best thing, after the end.
I left my inhaler, my nametag, half my earrings, you name it,
In the box you made. I realized this unpacking, after the end.
You stole The Old Man and The Sea from me. I heard you
had misgivings. You must admit it was fitting, after the end.
I have begun to grow doubts on the windowsills, like herbs.
Would you still tell me you like my phrasing, after the end?
A disposable camera with my proof of you not developed. Did
You not want pictures because you knew, asking after the end?
I met one of your friends a while ago, he cautiously brought
Up the subject of you. Have you been talking, after the end?
Carol. Sometimes, at oddly unassigned hours, sprinkled in
Mundane thoughts, I think I hear you calling, after the end.