Are You Hiding?

I saw you last night. You were cold and shaking in the light rain. Outside you stood, peering in through my backdoor of a quiet sleeping house, and your head was hung a little, almost fearing my eyes to catch you; almost hurt. Your fingertips drummed against each other, each against a rhythm I couldn't make out. I stood, frozen in time, watching like in the movies; when the cars drive by in slow motion, and the girl is sad to see you go.


I stared, frozen in time. And when your feet shifted, my fists hit the glass, my fingers snatching at the locks. I couldn't get them undone, struggling and wailing inside the empty house. And you were starting to walk away so despairingly, like you never saw me. I was screaming and distraught. "Don't you hear me?! Don't you see me?!"


And the rain was coming down faster, and in the street lights you were flickering like the TV in the dead living room. My heart panicked, and I felt sick. I swung the door wide and I was too late, screaming your name into the dark rainy night a million times, with the widest eyes, before I slipped on the steps, and hit my head. Did you ever hear me? Did you even see me?


Has anybody?