Memoirs.

Leftovers of a pudding once fresh,
Some sweet something sticky.
Reminders of happy morsels.
Of uncontained gaits and naivety,
Encounters with part strangers.
Of a time of plush love,
And tears in excess.
Marks on bodies,
Blood clots on skin.
His one hair,
Wrapped curiously around the soap.
And one tshirt,
Bleached to death in the sun.
His one slipper -
Only one,
The other ripening memories
Hanging on that mango tree.
The unfinished tea bags,
The finished cigeratte packs,
Countless lighters.
The pillow still sick in your sweet smell,
The stained bedsheet of a romantic night.
These are my morsels, my pudding
Some by the nightstand I keep
Some discarded, kept.
A hoarder of some sorts
A romantic gypsy.
A warehouse of mindscapes
Forever expanding.