The morning that you left, I thought about going with you. The thought consumed me as I stood in the kitchen, my fingers tracing the rim of the mug you drank your coffee from. I cleaned it slowly, meticulously, as if washing your lips away could somehow cleanse the ache in my heart. No one saw you come in. No one saw you leave. Our moments together were fleeting, hidden from the world. As I changed the sheets on my bed, I felt like I was washing away little bits of you, the traces you left behind. Each sweep of the fabric brought a strange sense of liberation. As if by erasing the physical remnants of you, I could also erase the emotional weight you carried. And so, I felt free… ❤🙏🏾👣

©️ Beatriz Esmer