The French fries

Cold on the counter. Grease stain on the note you wrote. Ketchup on my hoodie. Last night’s movie still paused on the joke. You left in a hurry. Door slam, keys in that old glass bowl. You took all your records. Left the paper bag in the hole. You left your leftover french fries. Curled up like question marks. Tasting like almost goodbyes. Salt on my tongue in the dark. I keep chewing on the silence. Let the soggy memories bite. You left your leftover french fries. So why can't I throw us out tonight? Oh. Microwave blinking. Same wrong time that we never set. Your chair at the table. Pulled back like you might come back. Yet I scroll through our photos. You're laughing with your mouth too wide. I dip one more crumpled fry into the space You left inside. You left your leftover french fries. Curled up like question marks. Tasting like almost goodbyes. Salt on my tongue in the dark. I keep chewing on the silence. Let the soggy memories bite. You left your leftover french fries. So why can't I throw us out tonight? Hey. Maybe it's dumb saving this bag. But everything else went out with the trash. If all that we were fits into this side. Then let the oil stain be the last time I cry. You left your leftover french fries. Curled up like question marks. Tasting like almost goodbyes. Salt on my tongue in the dark. I keep chewing on the silence. Let the soggy memories bite. You left your leftover french fries. Guess I'm the one getting cold tonight. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.