By Serena Wyle
He moved closer. Into my silence.
“Sometimes it helps to say ‘goodbye’,” he said, lips to my mouth.
I said nothing but must have agreed.
Later, he said: “I’m sorry.”
I put on my clothes, my shoes. Told him to put the crystals I gave him in salt water.
Salt clears negative energy.
I walked into the kitchen. His housemate, his best friend, my friend, offered me a cup of tea.
Not long after, he appeared, dressed for work. He left.
I stayed and drank more tea. Then went home and stared into the fire.
It took four weeks to get over him.
I can’t remember why.
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I love poetry…they way a story is told in a few lines.
I see the two people and feel their emotions…well-done.