Sick Day

You were out sick that day,
the day I realized how much trouble this all has been,
and yet I still cannot fully let you go.

Staring at your empty desk,
picturing where my gift had been,
standing, waiting, taking in the quietness of your empty stare.
Where is it now, the little memento I have left behind?

Is it stuck in a dark corner?
Trapped in your tightly shut drawer, crying out.
No response, and no release...

Am I too, the prisoner of your abandoned fortress?
Left alone, waiting in the deafening silence.
A captive of your shameful glory?

Am I so easily dismissable?
So readily disposable?
Have I never registered into your mind,
never fully convinced you,
that I am so utterly alive?

You were out sick that day,
the day I realized how much trouble this all has been.
I stood up, and cried.