don’t know what to call this one.

I picked up my pen
last night
to tell you
why I still keep your
shampoo in my bath
but soon as the ink
started flowing
my body started to
drown in the bubbles
of our past
the time when I thought I knew
what love is
and then crossed
our paths.

and the time stopped
moving around, it got up
and set on a
straight line
it followed your lead
into your exploration of a new space
while I watched
helplessly, from behind.

and soon my pen
danced under the dim light
and drew the ink
from my heart
you took those moments
away, from me
and all I was left with
was some words on a page and
your shampoo, in my bath.

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2 thoughts on “don’t know what to call this one.

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