It rained again today.
Our chalk drawings washed away
into sad, muddy tears of pastels
staining asphalt’s tired face.

I watched it from your favorite window
the one whose cracked sill
you used to trace, lovingly
the way you admired most of the small things
in my life.

I dropped a glass today.
For a moment it was limitless
spiraling so sweetly inches from my grip
until lured by gravity
and shattering into scattered pieces,
miniature mirrors which showed the truth
I’d rather not see.

I said a prayer today.
The words suspended from my lips
as if they had been wanting to fall forever.
I didn’t think I would remember
how to force sound from this weak body
but there are some things, I guess
you just never forget.

I wrote a poem today,
somewhat dull and monotonous
synonymous to the days before.
I guess it exposes the sad excuse for a human
that I’ve slowly become
since the day I sat at your favorite window
and watched you drive away.

You’re gone.