I was thinking
about coming home
to shave my legs.
But the weather
is cold
and sleet hugs the ground
before slipping down the drain.
I was in a good mood
until I finally asked,
because I had to.
"When are you leaving?"
. . . she doesn't know.
"Are you ever coming back?"
. . . she can't say,
and it doesn't appeal to her.
Hot tears ran down my face.
She didn't see me-
I didn't let her.
My chest opened up,
and my lungs deflated.
I wanted to lie on the floor,
curl into a ball,
and bawl.
Instead of shaving my legs,
I'm wiping my tears, tonight.
 
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