I’m worried about her

I’m worried about her,
sitting under the maple tree
tracing scars.
I’m worried about her,
walking through the cemetery
making up memoirs.
I’m worried about her,
sleeping in the office chair
holding that box of cigars.
I’m worried about her
driving home drunk
after hitting up her favourite bars.
I’m worried about her
because that is all I know now
as I look, alone, at the stars.

^{Part of #escapril2021. Photo by Noah Silliman.}