You asked me what I would do
if I woke up tomorrow but you didn't.


I can picture it all,
sitting in chemistry, barely acknowledging
the announcements on the intercom until
I hear your name.
I can tell by the tone of the assistant principal's voice,
he doesn't need to say it for me to start breaking down.
I look over at my classmates,
and they stare at me in disbelief;
they all know our history,
they know that we were lovers
until I told you
to leave me alone,
to let me get better.

I run.
I run through the door
and down the hall
and to the parking lot
where the doors to my brother's truck are locked
so I curl up in the back.
I didn't realize I was crying until now.
I didn't realize how much I missed you until now.
I curse at the misleadingly blue sky,
screaming my apologies,
hoping you hear me,
wishing you had known I wanted you back.
The guilt is crushing my chest
and I remember the feeling of your heartbeat
and I remember how warm your hands were
and I know that I will never feel that again
and I am
so,
so
sorry.


I tell you I would cry.

Sorry if I'm rude or unpleasant
I just can't breath
These whirling winds of conflict
Don't sit well on my shoulders
I don't do well under pressure
Of a blanket and hopeful eyes
Excuse me if I snap
I just have whiplash
Things never sit straight in my mind
I think I've forgotten how to be

I woke up
to the sound of hail
on a tin roof.

Looking out the window,
I was still in a dream
until I saw my journal on the floor
and remembered why it fell there.

The window shattered.
Water in every form
poured onto my desk:
hail, rain, the steam from my hot breath.
Wind whipped through the room,
tearing my paintings off the wall,
reminding me that
I never liked them much in the first place.

The louder I screamed
the stronger the storm became;
my vocal cords are no match for a hurricane.
Please stop,
I whispered into my folded arms.

Silence.

I opened my eyes.
The window was not open.

Our best night was the night my phone broke.
We had to message each other on Facebook
so we looked through each other's old pictures
and bragged about our relationship status to our friends.
That was the night I called you from the home phone
and I laughed when you told me you once ate human flesh
and I laughed harder when you said
you're supposed to be scared.
That was the night I sent you a poem I found online
and you replied with the most honest profession of love
I have ever heard without using the word love.
That was the night we stayed awake until 5am
even though you had to get up at 6.
I could've sworn I loved you.
I could've sworn you loved me, too.