There are these constant reminders of you.
Common, ordinary, everyday things.
Items: toaster ovens, coffee makers, garbage bags.
They make their way off the shelves and into my bed.
There are toiletries, tampons, and toilet paper. The towels we bought, the toothpaste you picked out for me at the supermarket. The smell of you still, the fruit that rots in that bowl I can't bear to throw out.
I no longer love you, not like before.
In fact I oscillate between nausea and nostalgia .
I'm such a sucker for nostalgia.
With what love I have left I want to get rid of you.