WHEN NO ONE’S LOOKING

I miss you. 

So, I take 

two fingers

and press 

until they’re 

the barrel 

of a gun. 

Thumbing 

the trigger, I 

contemplate 

the act of 

swallowing.

Agape, 

I rub over 

the tear

to stop  

the leaking,

I released 

my fear 

of leaving

and left. 

Raised,

a scar.