Yesterday I remodeled the closet in my chest. I cleared out the pictures, the memories and the kisses. I washed the letters in the kitchen sink and bleached the sheets of all the sweat. His impression on the couch was too deep so I moved it out so I could sweep. I scrubbed the floors of all his prints and wiped away where ever we pressed our body together, all twisted in one. My place is now empty of all that he’s done.