Crossroads

It either matters or it doesn't. 

If it has been all in my head, may my every word regarding you disintegrate to dust, blown away by the breeze.

If not, then every moment has mattered: Every hour hearing your call and finding no one at my door. Every experience of hell that I have already felt. Every mislead to a broken heart on center stage. All of it. Outpace the zipper, or witness exactly what I reference. 
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Even now the      |     I expect
dust storm          |     an apology.
rises.                   |
                             |
                             |
                             |
                             |
                             |
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