The floods,
they're back.
The ones
I know
follow you.
I find myself
at the window
again
tonight.
Looking out,
like I
always do.
I wait here,
the smells,
the creosote
in my lungs,
the scent
of
gunpowder
in the air.
Again.
I check
the bed side
table,
& your picture
is still there.
Sneaking past them,
being sure
I don't wake
them,
in this
small space
we share.
I turn one last
time,
knowing
you can't see
me,
all the way
up here.
But
I always look
anyway,
your breath
beating
in my ears.
I climb down
the stairs,
in this close
hallway,
I feel the others
in their rooms.
Always wondering
if they can
feel me
too.
I finally reach
the bottom,
floor level,
where I know
you'll be.
Waiting,
like you always
do.
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