Library Card

Your name.
A starting point.
A return-by date
that passed as emptily as all the others.
Overdue penalties will not apply,
I assure you.

You left me with the mess,
and I organised tears into parallel lines;
scheduled drunken phone calls
after appointments with faces I chose not to remember.

All I have left
is this cold card,
a joke missing her punch line,
the legislation.

I packed up every memory.
Now, stood in the empty room of us –
pale walls with paler shadows –
I’ve forgotten which box will tell me
how to tell you to come back.

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