Hey—
You left your sweater
And half the fight.
It’s still hanging
on the kitchen chair.
Do you want it back
or should I let it
learn to live here?
You blinked,
and I disappeared.
Or maybe
I blinked first.
Hard to say.
The dishes don’t argue
the way we did.
I said “I’m fine.”
You said “okay.”
We both lied
with such elegance.
You cut the roses
but left the thorns.
I kept the vase
as if that helps.
We broke
like glass
under warm water.
Nothing violent—
just
done.
You’re a question
I can’t
unask.
I’m a pause
you forgot
to fill.
If you find the sweater
Keep the fight.
I’m done
being
cold.
Michael Forty