A man stands on the side of the road
eyeing you on your walk home from work.
You've been here before.
He whistles.
"Hey, pretty lady!
What's a sweet thing like you
doing out so late?"
Walk faster.
Keep your eyes on the ground.
Maybe if you pretend you don't hear him
he'll leave you alone.

'I think we should stay friends.'
I knew this was coming.
And yet these words sting like
shards of ice to tired eyes.

My heart freezes over,
but my legs slowly melt.
Now knee-deep in defeat,  
I curse the day I fell.

The trees breathe
in a language
older than time.

next weeks the last
before the day she's gone
i think i may break
don't know how to go on

she had an extension
a few added weeks
we're almost out of time
i guess every relationship peaks

i won't hear her laugh
can't joke through the pain
can't talk to her daily
to hide from my brain

i think i may break

i watched the girl to my right
witnessed her crack and break
i looked on from an outside view
as she desperately tried to fake

every day's the same now
as we sit together silently
vacant whisperings of her future
murmurs oh so violently

she watched them talk without her
and i watched her talk to space
while her "friends" just looked away
i've never seen her so out of place

i think she's given up now
no more laughing at their jokes
swallowing down her loneliness
until silently she chokes