Shelf Life

The glow of my phone lit up the empty aisle,

as I mopped up the spills, my heart racing the while.

'It's over,' he typed, and the coldness it carried,

had me staring at boxes, feeling lost, feeling harried.

The smell of freezer burn clings tighter than regret,

while stale cardboard hangs heavy like a shroud I can’t forget.

I sweep up the echoes of laughter we shared,

a romance now plastic, heart left unprepared.

Night wraps around me, the fluorescent lights hum,

and I clean out the aisles like I’m still on the run.

Frozen peas sit idle, my breath a slow sigh,

each message still flickers, but I’m too numb to cry.