This tiny trouble finally got the best of you and made a nest in your heart and a lump in your throat, and all that you possess will never mean as much to you as that one small chance you missed. And it’s nagging at your heels just like a dog trying to chew up the cover over what went wrong, because your excuses will expire eventually. Tiny creeping wrinkles tucked into the corners of your eyes – a simple smile does not constitute a suitable disguise. A flick of the wrist, a wrinkle of your nose won’t fix this – although we all watch Bewitched sometimes. But no magic act can change the fact that you got hung up on so fast phone’s in the cradle as fast as your able to get it down on the table.

You set the alarm for 5am just so you can get up with the sun as if the brightness it brings can drown out the din of all the worries your done in for. You take the keys so so careful there’s no sound and drive around until you pass the playground, but it’s too early for children to appreciated it so you sit on a swing and you contemplate the situation. Cause mourning doesn’t hold all the answers and it keeps picking at you a little faster and you use your feet to drag to a stop. But what will you tell them? What will they say? You put your hands into your pockets and you’re so afraid. Days will go by and you’re still be waiting just inhaling and exhaling that air that contains you because you’re so afraid to dilate to open up to anyone.

So, back in your room at 6am, not a moment too soon for you. You close the door, turn the key so nobody can and pull that letter out of the drawer. To you it reads “don’t bother trying anymore,” but you rip it to shreds. And go back to bed