Sometimes I think about the way you talk to me, the way you touch and play with me. And for a moment, I believe we have something. A chance. Third times the charm. But then something changes, something happens. The light bulb goes out, the flick’s switched off, the sun sets and I know that’s its over.
And we always will be.
But the strangest thing is: I have no tears left for you. Sadness overtakes me when I hear your name, when I see your face. But no tears surface. So instead I’ll just let the sky open up and rain for you. I’ll let the sink water overflow and drip drop down the counter, run freely and flood. For you. And those things will be the tears that no longer leave me.