the suitcase remains untouched,
a relic of our last journey.
each glance stirs a flood of memories
too heavy to bear,
fragments of us I can't let go.
I cannot bring myself
to unpack,
to clear it all away,
to leave it behind.

the orange juice you left, half-finished,
lingers in the fridge,
as though it's waiting, like me,
for...