everything we planned and hoped for has disintegrated
our dreams are dead
and i am left with the refuse:
receipts, a book, a necklace, a couple of scribbled notes
and cards, some dead flowers, and a dress, carefully hung in a color coded closet.

i grab my things for school as i notice them collected in a heap,
a sad and crumpled little heap of us on my bedside table,
and i leave them there,
but imagine my return, when i will bring a bag to shove them into
and throw away.