I fold your T-shirt and put it in a cardboard box,
along with all my memories of you.
The threat of tears choked into the pit in my stomach,
a writhing serpent, swallowed whole.
I choke back the vomit as the serpent grows.
It’s nothing personal, I know,
But I can’t help but feel this death is final.
We have nothing in common; we haven’t spoken in ages;
Yet the memories of our brief time haunt me,
and I feel your absence all the more now,
even as I attempt to drown the dragon in my belly.
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