i cried the other day,
laid my head down on the kitchen table and sobbed

no one was home.

no one was home.


i left wet drip drips on this piece of paper

where i was writing to you a letter
that started with
"Alex-"

and after three pages of anger and sadness
and "why are you doing this to me
why would you do this to me
right when i was finally going to be okay"

i ripped it up

and wiped my face

there was a pile of tissues, just like
all those days i cried in your room

when
you would try

try desperately to wipe away the tears


but we would always look
flustered and wet

like we had just run through the rain