“Left Behind”
You left
your toothbrush in the cup,
your scent in my sheets,
your laugh in the corners
where sunlight still falls.
The door didn’t slam.
You just stopped
coming home.
Now, I water the plant
you picked for the windowsill.
It’s dying slowly—
but not enough to forget
what green looked like
when you were here.
I talk less now.
There’s no one to fill
the spaces between
what I mean
and what I say.
You were never mine
to lose,
but I lost you
all the same.