On the Day You Moved Out

I still feel your absence
when I open empty cupboards
where you used to keep tea leaves
that you shared with me
in times of sorrow
that you always seemed to both cause
and remedy.
I remember the way your fingers trembled
as you packed up your posters
of pop bands and
inspirational quotes
and I remember how you paused
before deciding not to take
the flowers I had given you
just days before.
And I could hear the echo of your footsteps
in the hardwood hallways
for weeks to follow,
and when I hugged my arms around my torso at night,
it was yours I was imagining.
Once you left,
you were everywhere;
unescapable,
and I was powerless to resist
the maddening temptation of,
“You deserve this”,
that played in my head like a broken record.

You compared yourself to a broken record once,
and I thought your melody was magical;
I just wished the record had two sides
so that when you left me
I could have turned it over,
repeated the song
through tears.

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