one table:

me and an

empty

chair.

no one could ever

sit there.

the fog of

a gone man

i swore would be a hero.

what did you do?

her lipstick,

nestled inside our coffee mug,

a strand of hair

hugging your coat—

taunting me,

(without you.)

what did you do?

songs of

laughter in the

past tense,

faded dreams

of that

picket white fence.

love has never,

ever

made sense.

what did you do?

one message,

twelve missed calls,

icy bathroom tiles,

and

sharp, resounding bawls.

_what_

_did you_

_do?_