A Second Letter

A poem in the form of a letter, or vice versa. I miss you.

I'm sitting alone in your room, missing you more than you'll ever know.

You're not even gone, just downstairs...

Of course you're just downstairs.

Making a sandwich,

Or waiting to get into the bathroom.

But there's a bathroom upstairs,

Why aren't you upstairs?

And there's bread in your room,

The bread you bought yesterday when we walked to the store.

And the knife.

But the knife is a bit dirty now,

You would probably want to wipe it off.

I could do that if you wanted me to,

I could do anything if you wanted me to.

But you're not here,

And I'm waiting for you to come back.

I'm sitting on your computer waiting for you to come back.

I closed the last page you were on, though.

The one where you were messaging that girl.

You won't need that page anymore;

I knew you didn't mean anything you said to her.

It's all better now; though.

I cleaned up your mess for you,

Just like always.

Aren't I such a good friend?

Speaking of cleaning, I should really clean your room for you,

While I wait.

Haven't you ever heard of a mop?

Your floor is a bloody mess.

Oh well

I guess I'll just sit here waiting.

At least I know where you are...

You're in the back yard.

Author's Note

I was just fooling around with something kind of different, I know it looks kind of messy and may not make much sense. It was just kind of like an experiment and I'm not sure if I'm happy at all with it yet