I'm sure they took our photos off the fridge.
I'm sure the framed pictures of us that scattered her walls are gone.
I'm sure I left some things lying around here and there.
I'm sure my presence,
and every existence of who I was,
is erased from their homes.

I'm sure they talk about us.
The words and rumors never leave their mouths.

But I wonder if they sit and reminisce.
And miss who I was.
How I could make them laugh,
how I brightened their days,
how I was her sunshine.

They helped define who I was.

Do they truly believe him?

Because as time passes,
I think about them.
And I miss who they were.

I sometimes wear that Stetson cologne that he gave me.
The smell of it reminds me of those cold early mornings
when he would be getting ready for work.
The stillness in the air was calming..
the sound of the shower rushing..
the sun hadn't come up yet..
it was a good start to those days.

I kept some shirts and things.
Because they left some things lying around here and there.
I still have photos of them.
But they hurt to look at.
So I took them all down.
Every existence of who they were,
is gone.

This reality can be so suffocating.