Janet Colson
I don’t remember when I left you exactly,
except it was definitely
‘I – left – you’. Fact.
You couldn’t leave me because
you hadn’t left him, if you see what I mean.
Come to think of it, I do remember.
You parked your shoulder on my doorbell for
four or six hours.
It was nine hours, actually.
Doesn’t matter.
When you left me for her, I fell apart.
It was crazy –
I was a crazed vase.
I was a gazelle with its guts out.
Your fault.
No doubt.
