Shouldn’t Have

5:48 PM, Monday.

I feel nothing, I feel every damn thing.

The skies cried, the wind bite.

My mind echoes a resounding “why?” 

You shouldn’t have left.


7:30 PM, Monday.

The “Dean’s Office” sign hanging on your window was lopsided.

Yet I am still unbelievably standing.

My insides screams for you–at you.

You shouldn’t have left.


8:30 AM, Tuesday.

Your mother desperately cried.

While your coffin says, “Going Home”

But, we were your home. We are your home.

You shouldn’t have left.


2:02 AM, Wednesday.

A sad song played, I think of you.

Eyes heavy with teardrops,

You shouldn’t have left.

You have left.

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