Sat on my bed one day during a bad period of writer's block and told myself that I would not move from it until I'd written something substantial. I came up with this poem.
Leaving
Cigarettes in the ashtray,
saggy bed,
yellowed walls,
broken dreams.
The closet's half-empty.
She just left
a couple hours ago.
And on the bed,
where he lies asleep,
there's a little note
in which she says,
'I have come
to realize
that our love
and our cherished memories
are all part
of a fleeting dream...'
Kissed his brow
just before she left,
heaved a sigh
and let go.
'...I'm off to find myself,
I'll let you know when I do...'
When he awakes,
he'll find nothing but
crooked pictures on cracked walls
and the lingering perfume
of his one time lover.
'Don't wait up too long.'
Copyright Cecilia Nguyen, 2003.