You loved me with the same
enthusiasm of a first apartment --
A place to explore
Blossoming freedom
And awakening desires.
But you didn't try
to change me --
just add your stamp here
and there -- you understood
I came furnished.

At least, I thought you did.

I tried to let you be free
to move the furniture around
some. Make it your own.

I thought you had.

But when a better apartment
came along -- a younger,
newer, closer apartment --
you moved out on me
so fast you made my
doors break.

I hope you don’t expect
your security deposit back.

You left my furniture
in disarray; ripped your
posters from my walls;
Left your trash upon my floor.

Why couldn’t you take
every thing if you had to go?
Why did you have to
smash my heart as if
it was merely a cockroach
that dared to encroach
upon your sparkling walls?

You knew about all the
remodeling that was going on.
Why did you have to move
out during the middle of it
and leave me with more
empty spaces
that no furniture could
ever fill?

You could have given me
A few weeks notice.
But no, you had to
just say you were moved
out and here’s your key.

My key. No, it ceased
to be my key
when I handed it to you
nearly a year ago.

Just nine months together.

Nine short months of bliss.

I guess it wasn’t all bliss --
Why couldn’t you tell me?
I would have painted; tossed
out that old chair; knocked
down a wall.

Like you hadn’t broken
through enough of my walls.
I let you move into secret rooms
no one else even suspected existed.

What more could you want?

I would have moved.

I *planned* to move.

I just needed time.

Why couldn’t you wait?