There Is Her

There is her suitcase by the door.
There is to the handle attached a sticky I’m sorry note.
There is her jet-black hair, cascading to the small of her back.
There is my old jacket draped around her shoulders.
There is her new lover, waiting in a new truck.
There is the doorknob of which her hand is twisting.
There is a single tear, spreading her cheek.
There is her, leaving the best part of me.
There is me waiting for her to stay.
There is her, dropping her head, crying.
There is her, wrapping her arms around me.
There is me, apologizing.
There is her, promising it won’t happen again.
There is me promising to believe her.

(© 2020 by AC)

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