the night after i ghosted you

a waterfall arrived in the closet.
first the faint sound of rushing
as i slept. i hold my pillow
to my ear like a conch shell
so i just thought it an ocean.
stood in dark bedroom
& used an iphone flashlight
to locate the sound. i worried it was
my own blood. then wondered if you
had somehow come to find me.
you, a river of longing. your pictures
taped to the high ceilings 
behind my eyes. you, the boy three towns away
with short brown hair & a motocycle.
thought about your coat hanger elbows
& banana smile. you saying, 
"i have never done something like this before." 
i couldn't tell if you meant
being with another guy or being with
a trans guy. i decided i was rare
if nothing else. felt the cool splash
of water from beneath the door
& pulled the closet open wide. 
it was too late for my clothes,
those had been rushed away hours ago.
the waterfall plumetting 
into the soul of the building.
taking all the worry with it.
endless water. reached out
to submerge a hand & almost
got sucked down. pictured myself
like a sweater thrown from 
a roof-top. washed my face with handfuls.
cool brillant & star-stipled.
the waterfall wept like i wanted to.
was everything i wanted to be.
spilled without reason. apologized 
in cycles. "i'm sorry i'm sorry
i'm sorry." i don't know if it was meant
for myself or for you. but, then again,
can't an apology have as many legs
as it needs. i left the door open.
soaked the floor of the room. 
sat in bed & watched the water pool
until the falls were done. run out
of tandtrum by the clementine morning.
peeled the days rind with my thumbs.
my short nails. finding all my clothes
hanging in the closet. faintly damp 
from the night's escapades.
i wanted to ask the waterfall 
if i was a bad person. i know though
water is almost always too busy to answer.
i lay towels out on the floor
to soak up the remaining pools
on the hardwood floor.