It's getting cold without the heater on.
The guinea pigs and kittens on the walls
are sorry I don't see them anymore.
I run towards my dreams so fast I trip,
then cry as if for the proverbial milk.
I need some chalk to scribble on the floor.
It's hard trying to carve and hammer words
out of my stone block self. I'm almost glad
that you're not here to see me anymore.
I keep forgetting people's names and faces –
I had erased them to make room for you.
I hear the clicking of a closing door.
I want my freedom, no, I want a chain.
Since you've been gone, there's nothing left to do
but cry to soak the carpet on the floor.
I'll never, never see you anymore.