Dear Ex-Play-Fellow

I want only to say that the indentation
in the pillow is almost gone now.
The lingering smell of the kitchen between
your legs still haunts like the
ghost of a dog. The things in the icebox
that were yours have all returned to the earth,
a deadly compost. And I, I
stand outside in the rain and say I am washed
in the blood of the limp. I want only
to say that it is over now, the long hemorrhage.
I bloom in the daylight, your flower,
your perfect, undying mirror, your excess.

  -Corey Mesler