Personal Things

A red scarf that she wore, a rinse in her hair,
A blister, an undersized shoe, her name on a tag
That can’t be washed off, a place at a table for two.
I think she wore red, I believe she wore black, any colour
You can mention except blue -- any number of colours
Under the sun I won’t be revealing to you.
I can tell you its final, I know its concluded, I can tell
You for certain were through. I can give you the names
And the places and the dates, but what could it mean
To someone like you?
So don’t come and visit, don’t give me no joke, don’t ask
Me no how does it go, for it goes as fast as a Chicken w/no head, and lord time goes by so slow.
Some secrets of love you take to your bed and there’s
Some that you take to your grave. Well I took mine
To a new address, where I took my rest, at the end
Of the day.
Now all of my stuff is spread out on the floor, an Unmade bed, a drink or two, and I’m packing and
Unpacking personal things that fail to remind me of you.
You can rub it off, you can scrape it off.
You can drink it off, you can burn it off