Passed Past

I passed my old house today,
the longest one of a dozen,
the one whose phone number I still remember

it looked so tired,
its warped cedar lining the sloping front porch
and soft green siding cracking,
faded by the sun

those same creaky boards’ welcome warning
as feet three sizes too small walked me up the steps
trepidus palms swiping years away to peer though the old glass

and there you were,
your long, silky black hair gone short,
your wistful hand stroking the womb swelling bigger than yesterday’s regret,
heavy dreams wilting, curling the corners of the flowered wallpaper

I heard your plastic giggle,
listening to the silly joke while you folded a shirt,
smiling on the outside, but your fickle heart fading like the scorched siding
and melting into mine

that’s when I realized I’d closed my eyes,
and my chest no longer rose, my own heart threatening to atrophy,
and when that last warm, exhaled breath faded away,
I saw your reflection in the glass,
staring back at me

with steely resolve, I turned and walked away,
down that broken sidewalk, past my sunken handprint,
and never looked back

5 thoughts on “Passed Past

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