I knocked on your door.
The rain was pouring, like that phrase,
"It's raining cats and dogs."
You opened it.
Your mouth opened, but no words came
out.
I walked myself in and took off my raincoat,
putting it on a rack on the entrance of the door
way.
I brewed a cup of coffee.
I felt your eyes on me.
On my back.
But that didn't matter anymore.
Nothing mattered anymore.
I stopped brewing my coffee.
I needed something stronger.
I know it's wrong.
For me to barge in the house.
And not say a word.
But it didn't matter anymore.
-J.S
