1.4.17

i slept

in your bathroom

floor, dressed in

crumpled lace.

your back was turned

the next morning,

and you were humming

that tune they play

in movies after somebody

dies.

my ears started ringing,

the energy in the

room

changed frequencies.

i gathered my things,

red shoes, red lips,

red face,

and i walked to my car,

like a pool of blood

in the snow,

and i screamed at my

steering wheel

to teach me how

to let go.

but it didn't say anything.