jess ingrassellino, September 2020
I don’t think of you,
even when I smell coffee
brewing before I’m awake,
or when I see the chiffon red
dress hanging in the closet – the one I wore
when we lay, laughing, on the grass.
Or when I order tacos from
Taco King at 9:30 on a
random Tuesday night.
Every day, I see the doorway
where you stood when I told you
“I need to leave you”.
But I don’t see your
face, looking lost, crushed, hopeless;
I don’t think about how you
forced back the tears as you
asked again to make sure that
this is what I really wanted.
For a moment, when I stumble on the
wedding ring you left in the velvet box,
with the note you wrote
when you proposed, I stop. Turn the box
over and over in my hands, then
take it to my bedroom and lock it away.