when the flowers began to bloom, i watched as you grew the same ones
inside of my belly. and then they began to wilt--i waited as you forgot
to water them. don't you remember? "you make me the happiest
i have ever been." these are my notes from nights unslept, where i tossed,
turned, and ached for you. scribbles in the margin that
reminded me why not even my worst enemy deserved to have a knife
twisted in the very ***** that she cherished. i trusted you and you became my rinse and repeat. good thing i finally spit you out.

i'll take this to the grave with me: my diary perception of you,
of your gentle hands and gentle heart, of your kind eyes and
the smile that released butterflies into my chest. of your sticky-note reminders:
"i love you." say it again. "i love you." louder, for the ones in the back.
"i love you but it's different now." you've become another name on my list,
unwillingly written and dated. spring of 2016, here lies the one who pieced it back together only to break it all again.