echo

puddles

sometimes i can’t help but think
with clarity and absolution
that i was meant to die alone

the stabbing pain grips my chest
at the most inopportune moments
and i choke as my mouth goes dry

in this moment i am certain
that i have run out of tears
and so i sob silently with no evidence

until standing beneath the faucet
the hot water blends with the streamĀ on my cheek
and i feel nothing

there is no knock on the door
no call or text or letter or message
to let me know that i am wrong

i am reminded by the silence
that my private tears are as unnoticed
as the mask i wear in the daylight