The icy embrace of checkered tiles
sends goosebumps up my spine
The rusty handle of the sink is positioned uncomfortably
between my shoulder blades
Above me
the third incandescent bulb trembles
like a child preparing to burst into tears
I hear the routine drip of water
falling from the ****** shower head
Drugstore mascara smeared below my eyelids
With every breath
I sink lower into the puddle that engulfs me
Here, I lay
Here, I am safe
and ignorant

If I was to write you a love letter,
I would tell you that I loved you.
It would say how much I love your smile,
how I love the way you play with my hair.
How I love the witty jokes you whisper under your breath.
The way you say my name,
and grab my hand when you are scared.
How I love the way you dance
when you get your favorite cup of tea.
My letter would say that I'm going to miss you,
even though you haven't even left.
It would say that I was afraid,
even though I knew you loved me too.

The truth is,
I write these letters everyday.
But are words really necessary?

I feel like our story isn't over,
but the book has been closed.

A few minutes ago,
our friendship ended.
Those four years were poured down the drain
like expired milk.

However, our friendship ended months ago,
when we fell in love.
Our friendship was lost in the sea of desire,
tangled between secret touches
and whispers.
You were planning to leave,
and we both knew it was inevitable.
I wanted to scream,
begging you to stay.
But my lips said goodbye.

As you walked into the velvet sunset,
I walked away with tears in my eyes,
But when I glanced back,
you were already gone.