To the woman who thinks she can live without him

go ahead and pack your bags.
Leave the eulogy under his
pillow. Press and starch your heart.
Fold it into a pocket square
and abandon it in his favorite shirt.

Leave the heirloom of his eyes
in the kitchen sink. Be brash
and unapologetic. Edged with
the type of silence that forces
the soul into hiding.

Close the door behind you,
Softly. Do not wake your
once lover. Do not go back
for the things you forgot
on purpose.

You would love to be there
under him. Suffocating in the taught
of his embrace. So you left your
breathe, feisty and daring on the
coffee table. In case he missed it
in his mornings.

Woman, locked in your sister’s
spare bedroom. Stop searching
the dank of your chest for traces
of him. That is not living.