You didn’t tell me you were stopping by;
yet you appeared so suddenly
like the rain does in early April.
We don’t say much although we want to;
what I really want to ask is: why are you here?
I stifle a laugh as I realize there is nothing to be said.
There is nothing ever to be said, especially after
twisting my branches off of my decaying stump
deviously deciding to lay them out before me, pointing at them and laughing before running away like a child
who has done something naughty.
I shake my head watching you run sadly watching
my dying leaves fall to the ground
oh so wishing you hadn’t done that.
I could kick myself wishing you would come back
with a sheepish look on your face trying to put the branches
back into place.
They would never go back of course, but it’s the thought
that always counts right?
Your voice suddenly snaps me out of the past:
"I just wanted to see you."
I bite the inside of my cheek raw
bitter metallic blood oddly soothes my taste buds;
a morbid distraction at best.
Still silence fills the air; creaking of the floor boards
is all we hear.
I really look at you this time: look at that! beads of
sweat appears! are you as anxious as I?
Oh cruel excitement, we meet again!
A slight devilish smile escapes me, I cannot help it.
"The door is behind you," I say and point.
Be gone, let me grow again.
what i think broken hearted people feel like.
