I can barely open my eyes.
Do I even want to?
Regrets have spilled all over these sheets,
and sorrow has seeped into my pillow.
When you left this morning,
I hope you took all of my unnamed feelings with you.
I hope you dismissed them, just like all of yours.
I don’t know how we came to this point,
where we keep giving and giving, just to have nothing at all.
Maybe we like watering a plant that died a long time ago.
Maybe it’s because we hate the sound of goodbye.
Poet: Stefanie Parrott