I know that as I speak he is standing where I want to be.
He's in his shower. In the heat. In the water where he drowns the pain.

Right where I left him. In the middle of pain.

But little does he know that if he would not have given me the chance to escape I would have never stepped away.

I would be there. In the heat where I want to be.

Watching drops of water as if they were me, roll off of his lips, down his hips, and escaping down the drain into the abyss.