Ex-Girlfriend

In the end there was only a bag of Q-tips,

the ones we had bought together in bulk.

Every time I reached for one, I would think of her,

curled up on the couch, or asleep in our bed.

Her long dark ringlets like naked tree branches,

on snow white sheets. She smelled of vanilla.

Liked to wear boxers and walk topless around the kitchen,

complain about the humidity.

Last night, I reached for the last Q-tip and wondered,

would I wipe away her memory?

Could this last touch of softness

clear away the pain she left me with?

I roll the Q-tip around in my fingers, press it to my cheek,

the slip it into my pocket.

Upstairs in the bedroom, I tell my wife

we need more Q-tips, then slip the one from my pocket

into a small box on my dresser.

- Thomas Leduc