The laundry is folded and carefully put away, towels neatly stacked.
The pantry is full and organized, labels facing outward.
The doors are locked, the sashes tightly fastened.
The curtains are pulled, neat and tidy in appearance from the street.
The carpets are swept, clear oak floors gleam.
The photo frames are square, nothing unwanted remains.
The bed is made, sheet and blanket flat and straight.
The note is written, left in plain sight.
The door is open, the entry clear for flight.
The heart is broken, only departure will stem the pain.
The message left: Baby, I'm leaving here.