i read today in the horoscopes that winter has been rough for you. it was something about change and loss, 

and letting go / letting it go / letting me go. have you let me go?

i ask because i forgot to take your city off my weather app and almost called you when the earthquake hit. my mother stripped every wall bare before i got home,

like covering mirrors in mourning / like tearing bodies limb from limb / like peeling scabs from the wound.

i slept the first night there with my feet hanging off the bed, wondering if your room was empty too. wondering what use it was for me to have fought for you with only a relic box to show for it. 

i know i said last time would be the last time but i don’t think either of us believed that so here i am asking: are your hips bruised from bumping into the kitchen table after dark? do you leave the nightlight on so it doesn’t happen again and do your feet hang off the bed and are you starting to accept this place cannot fit you like it used to? winter has taught me that i do not need to love someone like a shelter dog, all bared teeth and snarls and snapping jaws.