I'll start now
to gradually move my things out
of the home we've shared,
and put them back in that old empty house
where I spent so many lonely years.

A trinket or toothbrush at a time,
I'll empty my cabinets, leaving them bare
for another's use. As you go about
daily odds and ends, you'll hardly
notice my step-by-step disappearance.

I'll start to spend an hour a day
away from our house and us.
That will turn to two hours, then three,
four, five, so that you may
begin to forget – forget the trinkets
and the toothbrushes and me.

And finally, when the moment is right,
I'll pack a final suitcase and turn off the lights.
When you come home, you'll think it was you
who turned them off – you'll forget
there was ever another.