I can barely open my eyes.
Do I even want to?
Regret has spilled onto the sheets,
and sorrow has seeped into my pillow.
When you left this morning,
I hope you took all of my feelings with you,
but I’m sure that you dismissed them,
because you do the same to yours.
I don’t know how we came to this point,
where we keep giving and giving, just to have nothing at all.
Maybe we like watering what died a long time ago.
Maybe it’s because we hate the sound of goodbye.
written January 16, 2017.