You might come here
Sunday on a whim, after
I’m gone but my scent lingers
on a mattress left abandoned,
or in a forgotten box of clothing
I should have donated months ago,
but procrastinated in the same
way I procrastinated you.
[first 8 words belong to Richard Hugo, from his poem "Degrees of Grey in Philipsburg. )
Asunder
We’ve moved
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