She folded his sweatshirt,
Neat and clean jus like
The lines between them.

She placed it in the box with
His Christmas present;
A time they never got to share.
He only saw the times when they were apart.

She took a forced breath,
And closed her eyes,
His face already fading in her memory,
His fragrance still an aegis to reality.

She printed his address from
Her birthday card, a
Memento from happier times,
Maybe the only one.

She mailed it out two weeks late.
Prolonging what was already gone.

She sent it out with every good feeling left,
And sealed it with silence,
Realizing too late that she had given him
What was left of her.

-Kate Caretto