i’m sitting here alone,
looking at the broken pieces of glass
that shattered to the ground
in all your screaming, angry words and pain you yelled out.
i’m flashing back to those cold and bitter words,
lacking emotion- like two strangers throwing fists but there’s emotion,
because without it, there wouldn’t be this force — nothing to push us to this breaking point.
sitting here alone,
gazing into the broken reflection of us.
the silence consumes me;
it’s where your footsteps used to be.
we could’ve been redeemed had we not given into anger.
we made it too easy. red wine taints the wall
like blood spilled.
we didn’t apologize, we just spilled out in anger
with words we didn’t mean.
now i’m stuck here with reminders of you
and yet, so much of you is missing.
when will you come home?
will you come home?
i haven’t moved from this spot, sitting at the table
where i stubbornly watched you leave. i didn’t pick up the pieces,
just sitting here alone staring at the mess we made.
what if cleaning up the pieces means you’re gone, means
you’re not coming home, and never will this anger fade.