Put you out
with the trash
at 6 a.m.

Shredded pictures
of a past,
a lie --
gifts and tokens
which meant

nothing

more than
"Forgive me,"
until next time


Little baubles, cherished,
no longer hold meaning,
never did, it seems,
for your intentions
were not as perceived

I shake you off,
do not speak your name,
cut you from my life --
a moldy fungus
that grew
in the darkness

Yet each time
I do
as done
so many times,
you reappear,
like a phantom,
a ghost that will
not die

You are the lint
on my shoulder,
stray hair
in my eye,
asparagus
caught between
my front teeth

No matter where
I walk,
how far I go,
you remain stuck,
unavoidable
like Gum
on my shoe