Twenty-Nine Post-Its Because I Couldn’t Talk To You

  This pack of post-its     was all

I had   to write on.   So you know

  you’re wrong. You could have   at least

let me in.     I know you were home

because I saw the back     of your head

  when you turned and dropped     the curtain.

This is how     you wanted it to go down,

with me     walking around your building,

  shouting. But I am not     going out

like that. And you       know this.

      We could have talked it through.   Instead, you won’t

    take a phone call won’t answer       the door,

and what’s more you have made me       the fool

      who you have to treat     this way.

Do you   understand me?     Do you understand

  I am ashamed of myself and     angry at you.

I don’t understand how I let this     happen to me.

And where are you?   Now I don’t even     care.

    When the sun comes up tomorrow,   you will find

    these post-its, which could have been       cute

  under different circumstances.       Under these

    they make me look bad, so   I’ll leave them

    and not look back. I won’t come back   either, won’t call

    won’t answer my door. Just like you       have done to me.

I hope you     feel       foolish.

  But there is a good chance you won’t

feel anything.       There is a a good chance

      these post-its will mean nothing         to you.

      If so, throw them   to the wind.