We were supposed to pack up
the pieces of what we were
into nice boxes, but

you evicted me—
keeping just enough to comfort you & scattering
the streets with more than enough to haunt me.

Your kiss shoved me out the door,
& I heard it lock. I thought
you truly loved me after all

the words you said to me, so surely
I could’ve stayed longer. Instead, I should’ve known
to have already left. In my mind, every night

when I wake, startled, you still
hold me against your chest,
& I keep apologizing—

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please
don’t leave me. I’ve learned
that I’m a vagrant lover

in the spaces of other people’s
homes & hearts, as much as
I try to only eat the scraps

& limit the space I take up,
I’m sorry that that’s still
too much, & that all the love

I have is too broken to be
valuable. Time is too fragile—
I should’ve learned long ago

that everything dies if
it is paired with the storm of
my love. We no longer speak,

but I apologize to you
over & over, hoping that the tomorrow
in which we live will never come,

& that I’ll be so perfect
you couldn’t imagine any alternative
to “I’m not leaving anytime”

& you forget the soon.