what's left

when she left
she took everything,
everything that was hers,
almost.
her make up,
her contact lens
solution,
her slippers
and hair brush,
her copy of king lear,
her sleeping mask,
but she left her
back scratcher.
a long wooden stick
thing with a hand
like claw at the end.
you are using it
now, finding that sweet
spot at the center
of your back that you
could never quite
reach. you should
probably call her
and give it back,
but it feels so good.
you think you'll keep
it for awhile.
maybe she won't miss
it, like she doesn't
miss you.