A disorgized mess packed tightly in hidden creases and pockets,
Of things in which are mostly no longer needed.
Knick Knacks, thingamabobs and stale candy,
Receipts bundled and jammed in the sides.
Report cards from three years ago,
Gum wrappers, aspirin and coins no longer accepted by machines.
A solitaire band of silver seems heavier than before,
A diamond I must have forgotten for a single night.
Lipstick tubes, perfume and last night’s menu,
Buried beneath old matches, the cigarette pack no one knows about.
Pens and paper, hidden notes I wish not to be rid of,
Fingers graze each item until it finds the tie with the scent of him.
It lingers like it’s afraid of being forgotten,
Grasping for the memory they clinch the ends.
Let them stall over all that remains of moments of pure bliss,
Till they burn with something more, something far beyond desire and lust.
Rather of jealousy, deceit and fear,
That a single phone number written in black ink, smudged at the ends.
Just may be my undoing.