It's late.
The house is silent.
Too silent.
Except for the buzzing of the phone,
With your messages.
Unread.

I had told you,
I wouldn't cry again.
Or lie again. Or leave again.

But here I am,
Still lying.
With this tear-adorned face.
Leaving everyone,
Lying to myself: it's all fine.

I stare at my hands;
They have done nothing.
But maybe that's why it's their fault,
They didn't stop me.
They didn't call you when I wept;
They didn't shut my mouth
When I said
What I swore I wouldn't.

It's terrifying.
I'm scared
of the person that is replacing me,
So casually,
So convincingly,
So openly.