One Pair Left

It’s raining when she leaves me.

The sun is out, though, and it’s just

another of the contradictions I associate with her.

Tiny drops of wasted sunshine pelt the parked cars

as I watch her run towards the taxi’s open doors.

I avert my eyes from the scene outside,

letting the curtain fall back on the show

that’s just ended without the entire cast’s knowledge.

I look back at the bed behind me;

the sheets are still rumpled at its edge,

and the pillows have yet to be re-fluffed.

They’re the only signs that anyone else

was even here, and only I can read them.

I notice only now that she even took

the complimentary slippers with her.

You know the type, the ones that warm your feet

as soon as you put them on.