She left without a note. It troubled my mind more than it ever did. It sounds cliche to say, that I still smell the scent of jasmine on the linens and the sound of her high heels in the kitchen –much like the last times she swore she had enough. She packed her toothbrush she left in the medicine cabinet to the right of the aspirin. And took her white hairbrush she leaves unreservedly on the nightstand, in which she brushes three times through the tangles in her hair, wraps in a messy bun only to wake in the morning with knots in her hair. She left with her jacket. Her undying obsession with lord and Taylor gets the best of my paycheck. The closet in disarray. Hangers on the floor. Much like my pride. But something is different on this occasion. But I am unable to decipher. I make my way to the foyer. And there goes all hope. Not only did she leave without a note, with her toothbrush and clothes. She left this time without a key….. –she left this time.