Your Love

By Abrahim Harb

The devotion you gave me no longer arrives.

Those words you whispered to me are being re-gifted.

The memories we shared—thrown in a box.

Do you want it? Cuz I don’t—

You never respond—
& I’m greeting at the front door not by a barking dog,
but a box shoved in the corner under the coat rack, labeled with your name.