do you still love me?

she tells me in an

email,

i look at the windows

of your house,

as if

i'm a thief,

a burglar

who may break in

come nightfall.

the lower floor is best.

the backyard,

the window

by the trees

and bushes.

that's how i'll go in,

quietly, at three a.m.,

like a cat.

i'll wear black, have

a tool or two,

a flashlight, a mask.

i'll pry

open the glass

and slide in.

you'll be asleep in the far

room,

maybe the tv will

be on,

as you like to do.

but i won't a steal a

thing,

there's nothing here

for me,

not even you. i'll just

take a look,

see if you're alone,

i have to know if you're

still in love

with only me.