And if you must break me
Can you break me in two?
So one part I take away
And the other live with you.

lay it on your windowsill
so we may share one more sunrise,
watch you rub sleep from your new lover’s eyes,

sick with melancholy,
let me be a permanent fixture
become one part of your hoarded furniture,
And with the postcards on your wall,
I’ll be a mystery
a blank space, a blue tack stain,
our covert, unsung history

By Kate Moran