Day 58: Leaving

Before the door shuts

I turn back to see the hallway

Pictures falling off the wall,

Piles of clothes disintegrating into boxes,

The children playing with gifts that were meant for Christmas

The rented van is already rumbling in the driveway

Unsigned papers on the passenger side seat

I remember the last time she touched my cheek

Like magic, tears fell off

And landed on suitcases

In the hallway, I want to run away from the pain

But hold onto the moment

Sunlight stillness illuminates

The dry skin cells that flake and float,

Covering the carpet in pieces of my past

The look in her eyes tells me to leave

Leave before they understand

Walking through that doorway will never be the same

I’ll be someone else

Picking up the pieces, every other weekend