Derived from my original poem, "Homecoming"-April 12, 2014."
I was in your apartment today. Everything was gone, except for a few crumpled receipts, six wire coat hangers, and a hairball you missed behind the bedroom door.
You left this unit much cleaner than the last one you vacated, taking time to fill most of the nail holes, but using toothpaste rather than Spackle. I know because of the faint minty scent as I entered the unit and the taste when I licked my finger to sample a small patch. I'm certain your manager will overlook this old trick. He likes you.
The kitchen and bathroom nearly sparkled, shining brighter than any realtor's open house restroom I've visited, even those prestigious homes near the foothills. You're going to make huge points with that manager!
I was impressed that you accomplished so much with a single vacation day. You must be expecting to get your full security deposit back. I imagine you will get every penny back providing the toothpaste isn't a problem
I never would have guessed your plans to move. Last night, as I watched you sleep, carefully sipping my Diet Coke, gazing at you from the bedroom doorway. I love to watch you sleep, curled up snug and sound, your bunny rabbit snore.
Or watching you dry yourself after a shower, flipping your hair forward, drying and wrapping it over your head, so soft, with a yellow or blue towel, damping your face and breasts, wrapping yourself. You are so beautiful!
Even when watching you from beyond your window. The special times we've shared. Me longing from afar, you seeming so near, my yearning heart tugging
me back, so close to calling. Even nights when boyfriends call, I know, I learn, I'll be ready.
Soon again we'll share our secret nights. Time will slip along and you will settle into someplace new and comfortable, and as soon as the coast is clear, I'll be there, close by, still never close enough, just as I have been all these years.
But for now, I suffer and miss you reading in bed, the blue flicker of the walls when you watch TV. Most of all I'll miss your personal parties, the sweet sounds you make in your own private pleasure
I will not suffer for long. I know you will not move too far from work where I see you every morning, and I'll be back home with you just as soon as you hand me your new key and ask me to care for your cat.
