i broke into your house while you were away, did you know that? i made myself a cup of coffee, put on a load of laundry and went to your room. laid in the bed and smelled your pillow, felt the sheets with intent -- i'd never really felt them before. i read all the names of the books you own out loud though no one was around to hear. there was a secret poetry to the way you'd arranged them on the shelf. i knew this because you were this way always with all of your possessions, forming a relationship with each one -- creating vast social-networks with inanimate objects to hold conversations with while you fell asleep. maybe you were always just bored, or maybe they meant more to you than people, i could never be sure.

i cried in the hallway -- yah it was me -- i cried in the attic too. i'm the one that broke the mirror up there -- have you noticed yet?

the cat and i laid on the couch for awhile. i drank some of your wine -- i remember now the cat and i started watching that film "kidz" -- it wasn't so good. i told the cat i wasn't coming back and as i said goodbye, he licked his paws. i crawled out the window i used to let myself in.

i'm not sorry.