your house, not ours

I’ll close the door to your bedroom

and turn the hall light off

I’ll keep down the volume

I’ll put your clothes in the wash

I won’t leave a note

it would smell like my perfume

I’ll leave my side of the bed cold

I’ll take my toothbrush from the sink in the bathroom

I’ll take my clothes from the closet

I’ll scribble out my name in your journal

put the tear-soaked tissues in my pocket

and burn all my letters, my words aren’t eternal

I’ll return your lighter

and wipe off my fingerprints off the counter

sear with every fibre

of my body - I’m out of power

I’ll find my scrunchie behind your bed

and wear it out on my wrist

let me join the dead

pretend we didn’t exist

I’ll tie my shoes outside

I’ll leave quickly this time