Her memory Lingers in my everyday shadows,
Her scent caught in unwashed clothes
hung and preserved
like she will return for them
Linens folded neatly into boxes
and stored without thought
waiting for their use again.
She lingers in the corners of my mind
unable to rest,
Her memory scarring my existence,
starring at me from that prison
called a body.
I cry because I could not save her,
or release her from that prison
that could no longer move, or speak
only stare as life went on around her
I pack the car with boxes
send them away
I don't know who will end up with the items
so carefully packed away
Nothing new can enter here if nothing old is let go...
If only I could do the same.