Today my dad helped me demolish a desk
That I had picked up from a curb a month prior
Back when we were still in love—or I guess you were;
I still can't bring myself to say I loved you, past tense.
I was intending to fix it, make it better
It has good bones, I insisted
But it never happened; I don't know the first thing
About woodworking or veneer, and it was just
Too old and well worn (well loved) to keep.
So we pulled it apart and began chopping it
Into bits small enough to throw away
And as I pried old screws out of the wood I thought of you.
I wondered if this is what you thought of me as,
A discarded thing you could fix into someone perfect
But just never got around to; something that ended up
Outliving its usefulness (doesn’t everything someday?)
Or if this symbolizes our relationship itself: a thing
That was surely loved for so long but now wanted by no one.
As I swept the sawdust out of the garage,
Trying to erase every trace of it from my life,
Rust stains on my fingertips; heartbreak on my mind.
I wondered, is that all I am to you now?
Something once well loved, now fit only to dismantle
And scatter its dust to the wind.
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