Where I Left

I left with a trash bag of clothes

and my toothbrush wrapped in a receipt.

It was raining, of course

The sky always wants a role.

﹁﹂

The hallway smelled like someone’s curry

and that burnt-dust scent from old radiators.

I kept my keys in my fist

like a tiny weapon,

Like metal could make me brave.

﹁﹂

You didn’t chase me.

That hurt and relieved me

in the same breath.

I hate admitting that.

﹁﹂

Outside, I walked fast,

But the room came with me

The couch sag on the left side,

the lamp that buzzed if you touched it,

the spot on the wall

where you punched near my head

and called it an accident.

﹁﹂

Even now, in safer places,

I flinch at sudden laughter.

I measure footsteps in stairwells.

I sleep facing the door

like I’m still on duty.

﹁﹂

Sometimes I smell that radiator dust

and my stomach drops

before my mind catches up.

Memory is a landlord

and it doesn’t give notice.

﹁﹂

I’m learning to redecorate the inside of me.

Some days I hang new curtains.

Some days I just sit on the floor

and listen to the quiet

until it stops sounding like a threat.