The Flood

Water runs down the walls
like tears on my face
with nothing to catch the grief
or keep it from seeing into our lives.

I left your note on the window sill
where I could find it
read it
touch something you touched
before you died.

The water found it
and washed you away.

Now you're just bleeding ink
all over the place.
Your CDs are dripping wet
and scratched from falling down
like my knees when I was a kid
and never listened
to you
when you said "slow down!".

I want to hit rewind,
go back to the beginning,
find you again
and start all over,
put your letter away
from the water
and dry the walls
of my memory
from your tears.