Mess You Made

There's nothing where he used to lie. My inspiration has run dry. That's what's going on.

The dreary air above me was moist with the aftereffects of the rain, the wet, wet rain that I have endured since I got here eleven months and twenty-nine days ago. Don’t worry, I wasn’t counting or anything.

Tomorrow will be the one year anniversary of the day I ran.

Nothing's fine, I'm torn.