I have a list that goes on for miles
I made it the other day.
I wrote down all the things that remind me of you
stuff I should probably throw away.
The good, the bad, and the ugly
I have to bid adieu.
But I really want to tear it up
and pretend like this is all untrue.
It begins with the orange toothpaste,
something I used anytime
I was over at your place.
I recall the mint flavor on your tongue,
but now that usual sweet taste
has left me bitter and stung.
Next is the bottle of ketchup I see,
sitting there in my fridge
obviously taunting me.
The brand is your last name
written in caps and bold.
I wish I could let it just sit there
but my heart has switched cold.
The final item I can not throw away,
it is impossible to do so because
I see it almost every day.
Yellow trucks constantly roaming around,
and the second I see one
my walls begin to crumble down.
It might not be the yellow truck that you drive,
but I still look and I swerve
and I barely survive.