Not For Old Time’s Sake

he came over to chain my door,
to give an extra sense of security,
and I watched him choose
between two drills and hundreds of bits
as he examined the space.

thick, double-paned.

he tapped the nails, then screwed
them, then drilled, then tapped again
and I remembered how eager he used
to be to make me happy
but I couldn’t muster up
any love for him no matter
how hard I tried.

today, he left me with extra bolts,
extra locks, and an extra dent
in my heart.
I should feel something for him,
I should, but I don’t.

and now his damn cologne
is all that I smell.
how will I get rid of that?