I wonder if there is anyone I can tell our story who will be able to tell me the ending. I thought, once, that I had seen the full stop on the very last line, but I allowed it to be an ... and now there is a second chapter to a book I am not enjoying reading.
I love the shape of your hands and the feel of your hair between my fingers, your bubbling floor. I miss the pictures of the clouds and the feeling of you pushing against the walls I put up. I miss your voice and being able to hear that song without wanting to tear off my own ears. I think about you all the time, think about you all the time.
There is nobody here. A friend tells me she is afraid that you will do me real damage. There’s nobody left that does not know the break in me with your name on it.
If it is not her, it will be somebody. I am so afraid.
I saw it there that day in your eyes. I am nothing and nobody to you.
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