someone's in the next room over having *** while we are weeping what a way to mark the occasion the day my fingers found a wound you let someone else doctor it's upsetting see the bible in drawer next to us the way our hands still fit together like the torn halves of a love letter the way you got all dressed up like the rain and how we couldn't tell the difference in the shower it was the longest hour and a half spent crying the hot water wouldn't give up so why should we right? even though it was scalding neither of us touched the **** we knew this was supposed to hurt your hair a black mess against my shoulder my fingers oil in the vinegar of your hands our bodies the great divide all the sobbing a river runs through it without the courage to carry or **** us so we step out and drip dry down to a mute breakfast composed of quiet and last nights liquor as we came back in there were people in our room at first i thought them detectives dissecting things to see who had died here i had forgotten this was a hotel and they were only cleaning up after us i wanted to stop them plead that the sheets were still perfect that if they clean the bathroom no one will know what happened here someone has to remember "please i know these cigarette burns by name i will bury the faucet let me take the tub i don't care how if i have to i will drag it home by hand"