A toothbrush,

Or two – upright in the cup by the sink.

Like it lives there, 

Because it does. 

Socks on the floor behind the door,

I’m sure you’ll get them later.

Not annoyed anymore just used to it,

The way water gets used to the shape of stone.

You gave me a cupboard,

Not a shelf or a small drawer for emergencies.

A whole cupboard empty and waiting,

Like you’d already decided before I had.

And that duvet,

The one we chose together.

Not mine or yours but ours,

Wrapped around yOUR bed.

A decision neither of us had to say out loud.

You said you don’t like it when I leave,

I never learned to say it back.

So I’ll leave parts of myself behind,

For the whole of me that wants to stay.