An Empty Suitcase
My heart is an empty suitcase
That I store in the attic
It waits for me to fill it with all the things I need to leave.
One time I took it down overhead
stepping on the stepladder
down to the hall to my closet,
And filled it with carefully folded shirts and pants and good looking things
Thinking about the tablecloths and napkins that were folded neatly at a great restaurant where I’d sit across from you
After landing and driving and picking you up and driving and sitting down.
My navy blue, hardshell suitcase had an old airline tag that an airport girl abruptly ripped off before putting on a fresh new one.
I thought about her green eyes while you and I had dinner that night.
When I got home, I unpacked and threw everything on the floor and carried my empty suitcase back up to the attic.
But when I got down from the attic stairs,
Your turquoise scarf was laying on top of the clothes
And I thought of your eyes
Before they closed
While I watched them
last night.
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