I hang my shirt, a matching tie
From the lamp beside my bedroom door.
A routine I've carried out
So many times before. But now
You aren't waiting in my bed.
No, "can you get me water?"
"Those pants are wrinkled."
"Don't wake me up in the morning."
Just a few more small routines:
Check the e-mail, charge the phone
--in case you come calling, in part.
And tonight
There will be no bedtime pleasure.
No one, last, tired "love you"
Before your eyes close.
Before you steal my pillows.
And this is nothing like it was before.
Before we knew there was no happy ending.
Back then we had green drinks
And love seemed magical, like vodoo
And you'd make everything OK
Without effort, it was easy for you
To make me smile. For a while it was this
and then it went, went running away.
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