You left her and she took the bread.
But not just the bread, the chocolate syrup too,
leaving your peanut butter and your ice cream
bare. She left the camera you gave her for a holiday
and the diamonds for the years, but you came home
to find your bed sheet-less. Who did you think
you were kidding when you said
you’d be fine? She took the cat too.
You can still hear his face rubbing
the empty corners of your apartment walls.
You said you’d pawn the diamonds
to get more sheets and bread, but they’re still
sitting on your dresser, where she left them.
About the Author
Ann M Lawrence is a graduate of Knox College with a Bachelors in Creative Writing. She lives and works in her hometown of Homewood, Illinois with her husband, son, three cats, and dog Nelson.