The off-whites of your apartment
The buzz of your kitchen lamp
The halo it casts around your red hair as we wait for your friend
The fewer days you have to leave, the slower it feels
The two people you must say goodbye to.
The books to return. The one to get back.
The borrowed transit card. The money you owe.
I leave like I came
Moving alone through the city
Promises spoken lightly
turning to finishing nails in my pocket