I Guess It's Time I Go

I guess it's time I go back to my disconsolate

way of life, where I bounce from place to place,

leaving nothing behind.

There's no longer anything to keep, there's

no one to miss, there's no one to touch.

I don't need to cry anymore.

My dry eyes won't look forward to the rain

anymore. I put a stamp on your letter and

walk it down to the mailbox.

My quivering hands hold the handle open.

I look into the abyss of the mailbox,

reflecting on the resemblance of what I see

when I look ahead.

Retracting my former motion, I walk away.

Back up the steps, to an apartment I don't

belong in.

I think about your knees, as mine carry me

up each step. Are they bruised?

Beat up?

Do they wear the marks of mischief that I beg

you to stray from?

Walking never seemed so unbearable, I think

I'll lie down.

Is it better to ignore you or be ignored by you?

I can't see straight. I've been up for too long, and

I can't remember how I got here.

Fully clothed, in a bed I don't own, I guess it's

time I go.