283 or And I Get

dark sky airplanes
heavy trunks
notes I write on the counter
I think you’re still around
her stuff is gone
but what does that mean?

I’ve heard of worse reunions
and the end of an era
something I mark off with
a chisel.

maybe I’ll see her at a party
and she’ll laugh about the
countless voicemails I
couldn’t help but leave.

maybe she sees silhouettes
against the greying of night
and thinks of me
and my heavy hands

but I see what she sees
all I hear, see - dishes falling apart