Packed up

I've slammed the door
on you and me
it's over
no sampra yoga intimacy

Along with you
I've changed the sheets
my bed no longer clings to your memories

I've removed your toothbrush
from my deep-bellied pot
in the bathroom -
where we'd gargle and spit
like lovers,
I've coaxed your clothes
off the hangers
in my wardrobe,
deleted your numbers from my phones
packed your CDs, cereal and habits
into a box with your name on -
I've cleared you out of my flat.

But sitting alone on your box
with the weekend scratching on my window
to be let in -
I'm watched by these walls
that once watched us - together,
I feel queasy
and dizzy
with dustbin bags
full of doubts and "what ifs?"
floating in the roof of my mind.

I miss you,
lover of my body and soul
healer of a bad day
and protector of a good
we did shine with overwhelming gloss,
but now it's over
and I'm left extracting heartache with dental floss.

I love and hate you
in the same bubble
was it really worth
all this trouble?

We need to rediscover
build new roads into old lives
until we forget
with whom our journeys began.

Perhaps I'll look for a new place tomorrow.