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...