An Empty Suitcase

My heart is an empty suitcase That I store in the attic It waits for me to fill it with all the things I need to leave. One time I took it down overhead stepping on the stepladder down to the hall to my closet, And filled it with carefully folded shirts and pants and good looking things Thinking about the tablecloths and napkins that were folded neatly at a great restaurant where I’d sit across from you After landing and driving and picking you up and driving and sitting down. My navy blue, hardshell suitcase had an old airline tag that an airport girl abruptly ripped off before putting on a fresh new one. I thought about her green eyes while you and I had dinner that night. When I got home, I unpacked and threw everything on the floor and carried my empty suitcase back up to the attic. But when I got down from the attic stairs, Your turquoise scarf was laying on top of the clothes And I thought of your eyes Before they closed While I watched them last night.