I’ll take all 52 polaroids
And arrange them into a semblance of you
That I can recognize
As I shift my heavy heart
Onto broken feet.
It’s been 52 minutes
And I can’t look at
Your favorite books
Or the paint chipped door to your bedroom
Down the hall
Where your dresser is covered in pictures
And snowglobes from every trip to Florida
We’ve ever taken.
I guess I’m sorry it’s hard for me
To visit the place you abandoned me
Because you supplied me
And another reason to breathe.