We were
lying
in bed, I
touched your hair
softly.
And you
let me.
Build up
hope
with that
intimate touch.
Right
before you turned
to face
me.
With
stones in your eyes
that said “GET
THE FUCK OUT."
So I left
without one more
touch
just to
remember you by.
And you
let me.
Maybe you
didn’t mean
to let me
slip
through the
cracks and the creaks
of the
apartment.
But you
did.
So when I
miss you
I remember
those stones,
what they
say
about your
heart.
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