Cotton and Rubber

I wrote this a while ago...

Cotton and rubber.

Cotton fabric,
and rubber soles.
Alone.
In their pair,
in there.
In that cupboard in Brazil.

One year later,
he tells me,
That instead of throwing them away,
creating waste.
He placed them neatly,
hidden.
In that cupboard.
To wait.

And this melts me,
This tells me,
so much.

This act,
is in actuality,
The showing of a soul,
through a sole.
The leaving of a footprint,
A memory for him,
a discovery for the finder,
and for me.

The one who must now take this soul,
and his soles,
and place them in my own cupboard.
And so we are
not alone,
in our pair,
in there,
in my chest.

One year later,
he tells me,
that he is going back.

And so,
what may have been,
what began as cotton sheets
and rubber condoms,
is gone.
And now I sit,
alone,
one of our pair,
and I wait.