I went yesterday, alone, sat there for a while, closed my eyes and felt the walls move slowly, in, out, smelling me for the last time. My hair spread across the floor, outlets empty, bed post indentations leave a hungry, naked absence. Dust has no where to go. As it was when I first found it, but different somehow for what we shared. Are we breaking up? You knew it wasn't, couldn't be forever, right? Still hurts though, all the laughs and tears shared, the independence that I grabbed without reservation, a thing I had to have. Alone there usually, shared when necessary, warm and cold, cats and a dog, oatmeal and stew, washer dryer, books, fires, me growing up and out. Seems a part of me still lives there, I'll pick up the mail soon. Send a text every once and a while. Just to see how things are, did they put the bed somewhere else? Does she cook as well as me? Do you miss me? I miss you, sometimes.