I will make a nest in the back of the closet where I will sleep & I will stare into the high heels & the shoes still covered in one weekend's vomit. I am too terrified to fill my stomach with little pieces of rounded glass. I will start combing out my hair & collecting every single strand. I will burn them on the rear burner instead of cooking meals. I will tape up the love letters you sent me into little origami boats & send them down the storm drains. They were always too poetic, too startling, they smelled of nesting red-winged black birds but I will memorize them first by every single letter, even the misspelling of traveling. I will recite them to my grandchildren, stumbling over the words.