After a journey that led me back home,
I washed my hands of viruses
And chanced to see the mirror.
I noticed my shirt askew:
The fold of the collar was bent inward…
I thought about you.
If you were there,
You’d have turned it upright,
In the middle of the road.
I would have smiled;
You would have, too.
And neither would have to say
I love you.
Was it all a lie?
I cannot tell. I do not know.
He promised he’d stay;
But then I watched him go.
Every flower knows,
The bee will return;
The sun can tell
How the moon yearns;
The shore feels the tide,
It understands the sea;
But these metaphors
Everyone can not see.
I guess I am one who
Knows the heart not his head,
Yet they both lie now
Quite broken in this bed.
Bottles of medicines –
Empty now and lying there –
The last of your shampoo
I used on my hair.
The black comb
You forgot to take –
The socks in the drawer –
Careless mistakes –
The pop socket broke –
We bought it, us three –
These little, last things
You won’t ever see.
I hold on to them
Like pieces of a heart,
And wonder when
The moving on shall start.
Hearts Still Care 
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