I write you letters,
I will never send.
You will never read.
Just dead words on loose leaf.
I had an idea.
A tiny little seed,
and you offered up water
and a ray of light.
It started to take shape.
Roots and buds appeared
but you grew dark and dry
And killed it.
An intentional sabotage.
She's buried in the backyard now.
The evidence still under my nails.
And I think of you
when I stand there.
I think of that dead rabbit we saw,
while walking together
that May morning.
Chilly enough for a winter coat.
It was an obvious sign
but I was a giddy girl again
sneaking a boy out,
morning breathe,
frost on the grass
and I missed it till just now.
That should have told me something.
nothing good can come from dead rabbits.
You must have seen it coming
You must have sensed it too.
written June 18th 2014
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