I smoke and watch her

pack.

The taxi waits.

Then a memory:

her last departure-

and

the scent of her 

unwashed skin-

and

the left-overs

of our arguments...

 

She's smiling as she 

leaves me her echo 

in our space.

She's planning a future

as we fail,

as we fail to finish

yet another argument...

to fail another space.

 

I pick through the remains

of the accusations

that she broadcasts

purposefully.

 

A horn beckons.

Then leaving,

sighing,

she drags behind her

-like wheeled luggage-

the life that we once shared.

 

words and foto  T Carroll

re-worked