I packed up the rest of your things tonight;
empty flip top bottles
and brew pots
clinked over every pothole
as tunnel vision carried me and my car across town to your house.
All unpacked,
breathless from the weight
of glass and adrenaline,
I look back and the irony
of a pile of beer bottles
being all that’s left of us
is not lost on me.
Shaking,
I break 40 down the block,
away from your house,
dead end
turning to dust in my rearview—
So, this is it.
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 11:41 AM UTC
I packed up the rest of your things tonight;
empty flip top bottles
and brew pots
clinked over every pothole
as tunnel vision carried me and my car across town to your house.
All unpacked,
breathless from the weight
of glass and adrenaline,
I look back and the irony
of a pile of beer bottles
being all that’s left of us
is not lost on me.
Shaking,
I break 40 down the block,
away from your house,
dead end
turning to dust in my rearview—
So, this is it.
