He folds our blanket <br />and throws it in his truck <br />heading for the east coast. <br /> <br />Told me to get off <br />and I didn't mind <br />because I wanted to leave anyway. <br /> <br />And words left unsaid <br />still dance between rooftops <br />and cascade through my hair. <br /> <br />Bleach and scissors <br />won't get these memories <br />out from my soft tangles. <br /> <br />Whisps of your scent <br />still manage to find me <br />wherever I walk. <br /> <br />Unanswered questions <br />written on my tanned arms <br />glistening with summer sweat. <br /> <br />Left to find my own way <br />in an indecisive explosion. <br />I falter to my next position. <br /> <br />Vacuum in one hand <br />medical gloves in the other <br />work is what occupies my time now. <br /> <br />I didn't cry <br />until I missed you <br />long after you were already gone <br />for good.<br /><br />Erica Francis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/folded-blanket/
