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i never told you about this:
when we finally packed everything and moved it outside, the house sat so steadily.
for the first time it seemed, the floor stopped crying so loud
and the ceilings grew higher than before.
you were waiting in the car, honking impatiently,
broken radio signal but you listened anyway.
i took what energy was left in my fists and used them to break the windows and kick my feet at the dirty bricks of our fireplace
and smear my bloody palms all over our white walls and when you have honked more than fifty times i decided that it was time to leave
and never
come
back
again.