i will wipe your lipstick from the glass,
scrub the rings
off the coffee table,
and throw out the toothbrush and its plastic mug,
that sat
balanced on the sink
like a rock
on a cliffside
as if it paid rent.

you always knocked it off,
with your baggy sleeves –
you’d wet your hair
when you rinsed your mouth.
it was cold when you kissed me.

i will take your photo out of its frame,
and move your letters from the drawer.
i want to leave your diary by the bed –
if you visit, you could leave me a note,
if you wanted.
every day i have checked –
but the pages still are empty.
i will throw it out.

i will leave
the little knob of sticky tack
stuck above your desk
by the picture of bowie,
your fingerprint engraved
in the soft dip
pressed on its light blue skin.

i will leave it there,
because though others may wear lipstick
and drink coffee
and write poems,
your fingerprint
is the one thing i have
that could only be made
by you.


2 thoughts on “blu-tac

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s