For all the sadness in my bones
Nothing can negate the peace I have laying
In the grass watching the sunset

We sip congratulatory Miller lites
In the bar with the 50 cent pizza
The poor mans gala I thought to myself and chuckled

But Heather she whispered
And drew me close, her lips against the folds of my ear
“I still think of her”

“When” I say
“Everytime we make a major relationship decision”

She wants to know is it wrong
I say no
But what I mean is “you’re not alone”

Taught to think a partner is happiness
But never being truly happy with ourselves

Constantly trying to be better than the pornstars
Look like the models of his dreams
And let’s be real
More nurturing  than his mother

May her broken body peacefully return to earth
And her broken heart heal in the next place

I think I spend half my life mourning the versions of me before
And the next half terrified of reaching my final form

What’s a measure of a valuable life?
dignity;
Or knowing when to ask for help?
Is it clutched in talons of the oppressor?
Is it living fast and dying young all for a story to tell?
How many should watch over your rotting corpse?
Because in the end all our blood pools black;
The ink of our heart’s quill desperate to get out