You passed me in the hallway
Dropped it in my hand:
A note addressed to only me
In your neat, cursive hand

I waited for the right moment
In which to read your note
I waited because I knew it would be
The words stuck in your throat

I went into the bathroom
And hid inside a stall
I knew your note might make me cry
But I didn't want that at all

As I unfolded your crinkled note,
A tear running down my cheek,
I noticed many extra creases
For this note, you had to think

You asked yourself several times
Weather you would give me the note or not
I could tell just by the way it was folded
That this took a lot of thought

As I read the last two words
I asked how I could sink any lower
You put this together so carefully
Just to tell me it's over
 
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