ghosted [excerpts from a book i’ll never write – eighteen]

she looked him

d e a d

in the eye

and said,

“i sat there in that room,

waiting for you to show up.

i didn’t ask you to.

i couldn’t.

i knew if i did you’d show up,

but you wouldn’t really be there.

you’d be upset i dragged you into it,

as if you weren’t partially to blame.

so, though it killed,

i sat there alone,

waiting for you to want to be there,

for me.  for us.

i can never forget,

never forgive you,

for that day in february,

i sat there,

in a cold, dark room,

not alone, but alone.

and i cried.  big, ugly, quiet tears.

because you never showed up.”

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