Why I Don't Clean The House

That letter again, found in a drawer, two pages torn from a pad, a vital organ torn from its housing, too bad we didn't make it to lilac season you said, but we did, and more than once, it's just the road wasn't straight.

The closeness was surreal at times, you said - and I felt it too - but it doesn't last you said, as I'm typing this more than five years later.