i came downstairs,

on a nice day,

when you didn't leave,

nor made me worried,

but we lay on the couch,

watching television,

robotic laughs clicking,

on the same reruns,

i've seen five times,

but i see mail on the coffee table,

and it has my name written in blue,

and i reach over to see who it's from,

and it's my sister's handwriting,

but you disagree,

and say it's not for me,

but to keep on watching the damn tv,

and you rip it in half,

and leave me to be,

and i try not to cry.

(for it's already gone.)