An old poem from my journal, circa 2006

I remember standing in your kitchen
In knee socks and new bra bravado
With modern messy hair and instant coffee
Watching you read the paper and smoke pot from a bright blue pipe
Curved in the shape of a woman
You'd scan the sports section dutifully as her round hips gathered smoke
And you frowned at the politics page as you pulled the gray clouds down her legs
Filling your lungs
You looked up at me and smiled.
I felt like a member of some private club
The world we shared Mine and yours
I confused routine for commitment
And comfort for destiny
The stale safety of our world
The private isolation we created
How easily I confused the two for love.
When the walls came down and you drifted
Violently away
I made altars to our old apartment
I stayed inside the boxes and buried myself in packing styrofoam
Refusing to come out
Until that old feeling of home returned
When it didnt I became quietly resigned to your pictures
I made a home for you in glass frames
So I could hang you on my walls
And remember every word you said.