your clothes on the bed like I always do,
different sizes small, medium, and large,
Before I put
them in the closet. I separate
from the blues and the formal
casual clothes. You used to like this
your chaos, this known form
You were afraid of the unknown
your closet. The Bogeyman you would say,
I held your
hand and opened the closet, as you closed
Your eyes I
showed you your green sweater. I was
then. I created your universe and made
Your world. I
showed you that light can shine in
you, you don't need me like this anymore.
You seek out
unknown skin of countries, mesmerized
By the light
of an island of spirits. You don't need me
To hold your
hand. You doubt as plants do in winter looking
For the sun
in the ice's cold fingers when I
content with distance.
I can still hold you in these
folded clothes and matched colors.
form and certainty can draw me closer to you
these clothes don't fit you anymore.
I am slowly
losing you, the clothes are messed and dirtied.
footsteps walking towards me, I see
You are here
with your newness. Somehow I
even in your strange ways
are a part of me whether you liked it or not.
You bend down and reach
for my hand as I used to,
We pick up
the messy and dirty clothes. We store it
In a box. We
clean out the closet where I used to perform
of folding and matching. This new form and emptiness
May be an
ending or perhaps just a new beginning.