That morning...i went to your house...i knocked twice, almost left...then i swallowed my pride and opened the front door...I worried you might have *****-trapped the long dark funky **** carpet hallway...i checked for landmines as i violently trembled my way to the door to your room...I had a reason to be there...I wanted my record back...but i also just wanted to see you again...i stood at your door, embarrassed about how i felt and i ****** it all under as I bit my lip and pushed open the door to your room...(for a moment I touched the sky and i felt the subastence of stars)    
you lay sleepful beneath our blankets;  I paused as your feet waywardly popped out, sticking awkwardly out of the pile of soft cotton that I knew the rest of you was underneath...
i felt simpathy from your feet that morning...like they were really sorry for me as I
snuck quietly around your room collecting what was left of me and my part in your life...

Lift your fingers to the next wounding.

but if you're listening...

just beyond the fog of
dreaming in your presence
so connected to the gravity of rainy days
in a bed i was in so frequently
it almost belonged to me
january blew icicles punching holes where
all the warmth leaked out weeks ago
you once told me its the people you break
that know you the best
somewhere you had kissed me long
as if i belonged
spouting your black coffee monologues
on street corners  never caring to
remove a cigarette from your mouth
like a painting ***** with reality
been waiting all my life just to worry about now
can it just wait?
can it all go away?
the rain stains dance out there
like the asphalt has turned to water
breaking my heart to
wake from dreams of you
refusing to rise from my place of waiting
straining to hear the echo remnant
melody of a song you never sang
pretending  you are here to
make this hole feel a little smaller
some authority to
my heart you hold
you're out of reach
beyond my senses
leaving your imprints like scars
suffocating in your silence
the empty quiet periods of my life
you leave and without accepting

...i grieve