Like Velcro

There was a sound,

Final, resolute, irreparable,

Like a kiss broken in half.

But velcro doesn’t make that sound, does it?

How then did I hear it –

In the promises unmade,

In the hanging up of the phone,

In the silences between words?

Do strips of velcro feel pain,

When they’re peeled apart?

Why then do I hurt

When I see –

The empty REPLY box,

The ghost of her old smile,

The scrapbook that made us?

Her velcro patch has collected

Dust, dust, more dust.

(She always was careless though.)

Dust like –

Secrets,

Hurt,

Tears,

Ache.

(She claims they were souvenirs,

In her quest for happiness.)

I pluck the stubborn,

Remainders from her velcro patch.

(Or try to –

Velcro is as stubborn as the dust.)

Maybe the wind won’t,

Steal our laughter again.

Maybe we won’t,

Talk up a long bill.

And maybe we won’t,

Swap colourful bracelets.

But we won’t grow,

Out of our worn sandals yet.