im tired of being left at home

all alone

doing your bed

cleaning your room

organizing your closet 

waiting for you to come back

 

you were out on another friday night 

and i sequestered myself 

into a life of domesticity

 

you said they weren’t ready to see us together

i asked you when the time was right 

in your eyes 

you replied 

never

 

i held my tongue and wondered when the sun would shine on us holding hands

when i would have a picture of us to frame 

to decorate our room with our history

a bit conventional but that’s all i know how to do

.

.

.

soon enough 

you’ll leave me for another

i always trust my intuitions

and with no photographs saved

or archives engraved

all i’ll be left with are these letters i wrote for you

that i’ll send out into the world

in search of someone else to remember us

​