the smell is intoxicating.

It wasn't the starving cat that made me wonder where you were, it wasn't even the thousand of dirty dishes piled in the sink or the smell.  It was when I saw you're red lipstick gone off the bathroom counter and the money jar empty that I realized you weren't coming back.


I don't know what was more sad, the way your cat cried to me or the bugs crawling in the sink?  I wasn't even sure if you meant to leave and never come back because who could forget about a cat that they named Baby because they didn't have a real baby of their own?  I guess only you could do that.






You didn't used to be so spontaneous, so untrustworthy. 



You used to have a clean house and a fat cat that lied next to the heater when winter came.  You used to bake me cookies and pick me up from school because my mother forgot about me, again.  You used to talk to me about growing up and ask me questions about how I was.  You used to care.











I'm just in an house now that has barely any life inside.  I pour cat food into the bowl and some water in the other, the cat runs over and I smile a little.














I didn't think that you could be gone when I saw a fridge with barely any food and I didn't think that you could be gone even though there's at least a week's worth of newspaper outside your door.  I guess I just didn't want to admit that you could be because I've called you thirteen times and you didn't pick up and I left six messages.  When I went to your answering machine, there were six unread messages. 

















What do I do now when my mother forgets about me again?  You always said she wasn't responsible, but maybe it's you who isn't responsible.  Maybe it's you who doesn't care.


It's selfish of me to think you'd come back for me,






but I can't help wishing that you would.




















Don't worry, I took care of your dishes and I took your cat home with me, too.