i walked the 5 miles from my house to yours and back again. stood in front of the hood of your car in the parking lot. stared. i listened hard. waited. leaned into the rotation of the world and felt a whole lot like falling. i wanted skinned knees and elbows. i wanted to knock. then didn't know how to say i'm sorry. for this. instead, i left the card i kept forgetting to give you, now already a month late, under the wiper-blade. and left.

this morning, i curled up in the window to watch the rain. likely washing all the words away.