Alone

Outside
thunder rumbles
through the clouds
as I sit
in my bedroom
wondering
how it all went wrong.
Maybe it was you;
maybe it was me.
Mostly,
it was me,
with the vodka,
fighting
and insanity.
I want to
call you,
write a letter,
reach out,
explain things
somehow.
But I don't.
I just
sit in my room,
alone,
listening to the rain
pound on the roof.