finding what is left when you're gone:
memories, ticket stubs, old bills,
and a yearning.
you left me with plenty of guilt,
and an imagination that replays the afternoons
over and over, a slideshow
of smiles that are long gone.
i am digging through the piles,
i am finding
all the things i brushed over
when you were here,
all the irritations glossed over
for the sake of loving you.
in my heart you will be a slideshow
all your own, the images
of experience and wisdom gained
and self-respect lost.
i can see our hands, intertwined,
and always seeking:
writing messages in the fog on the mirror.
what is left when you are gone?
just me, just me.