You climbed a tree and looked down at me.
You spoke with your face.
I could see. You weren’t happy at all.
I had risen my voice. It didn’t feel like my choice.
I walked away. Like this was a play.
But this was no act.
You didn’t want to know. What you already knew.
My temper had torn our bond apart. Left holes in our hearts.
So I wrote to you. ‘We can see this through.’
There was nothing to see.
You built yourself a new home. A new start.
So in the heat I lay. Wishing for a new day. By the tree where you looked down at me.