I fell to my knees and crawled away,
drenching the pavement with pathetic tears,
grazing my knees as I tried to reach
for the broken pieces of me scattered all around
[to take at least some of myself back with me.]
And he watched, felt a pang of guilt,
but stood silently, awkwardly,
unequipped to do anything.
I’ve been the starring role in a scene like this before,
I can accept my own damn mess.
I just wish he didn’t have to watch me clean it up.