codes and passwords

shuffling through
the drawers
in an effort to clean things out
on this
cold Friday
the first of November
I come across a note or two.
codes
and passwords,
all the things she gave me
too late
in the game, trying for
false proof.
it was too late, i'd seen enough,
more than enough
to change the locks
and put her things
in the yard.
she was already done
and through.
it's funny and sad at the same
time.
what we think is love
is often a mirage,
untrue.