by Kristen Walsh
we spoke on
the phone that
night.
i had to talk
over the pedestrians
that you passed on
new york city streets.
i was in bed surrounded
by the soft glow of
christmas lights
in april in
absolute quiet
wanting your
arms around me
instead.
and in the
morning,
the sun only rising,
i sent a text
you answered
after too long
this is goodbye.
so i sat
down by
the fridge
before walking away
as empty as
i felt.
i stood on
train platforms too
close to the
edge
and thought about
taking
just one
step.
if you had wanted
you could have
found me
in all
of your favorite
places, trying to
finish
your favorite book.
i was no longer
safe
in amnh and
i carried some
tissues just
incase.
so i
listened to a
sad song
and lie
eternally
awake.
