Things You Leave
Molly Barrett
I seem to leave a trail of bobby pins After me wherever I go It used to make you angry; You said, “How can someone possibly lose this many?” And I laughed it off and blamed it On my huge mass of tangled hair But the worst part, you told me, Was finding them in the corners of your room, In the folds of your sheets, In the blank space next to your keyboard Reminding you of where I’d been When you knew I would never be Those places Any more.
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