Burning the past 

44 days 
Now that I’ve learned how to move on 

I would like to give you back your 

Journal, I ripped pages out of rage

Your coffee, it was bitter and I was too shy 

To ask for more sugar 

Your pen, actually I’ll keep that 

Give me back my 44 days 

Give me back my poetry 

I was too vulnerable to share 

Forget them, 

I wrote superficially 

And now I’m all regrets

My coffee fell this morning 

I opened my bags, removed papers 

Stained with coffee, 

I explored and found the paper bag

You gave me the present in 

I do not attach myself 

To objects 

Mama taught me that long ago 

Like when she threw out my Mother’s Day

Cards, presents, certificates

She said “just things”

So I threw out the paper bag

You mean very little now 

And in trying to

figure out 

what I lost and gained from

your non-reciprocal love 

I want my 44 days back 

You can have the pen 

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