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I'm dying to tell you something

I think perhaps you'd be the only one that might actually let me cry in their arms about it

So I ran from my place to yours

But your house was empty

Spider webs by the doorknob

I fell to my knees

I choked on letters, words, sentences

And all the things I'll never be able to tell you

I take a breath

I close my eyes

Guess I'll head back home

Let me know when you put your empty house up for sale

I'll buy it

I'll write poems on the walls

I'll fill it with art and symbolism

I'll turn it into a museum

A museum of all the things that were

before

the catastrophic 8