I walk away through

streets we lived in, our lives splashed

on the quaint buildings.

Two years ago You

breathed in these red falling leaves.

Your shoes touched the ground.

Slam my fist down on

tabletops. What does it matter?

If you won't hear me.

I wrote a letter

that will remain unopened.

You're all I wanted.

I walk towards something.

I don't know what it is.

I can't keep fleeing.