leaving grief. and i—i now remember why
i should never have allowed anyone
to get under my buckling skin
for fine friends are only fine, friends until
they know the perfect way to damage
the stillborn remnants of what you hold on to
them, without patience, distraught,
you; promises of finding someone better
overhearing a devotion that cannot possibly be true
only useful in the event of an epiphanic letdown
i love you but why have i loved you
did i love you because you were kind for five seconds
and it was only fair to bleed when it should not be enough
did you not love me because i wasn’t enough
or because you knew i was nothing to be proud of?
from knowing too much, trusting too well
follies and fey melodies for a final disconnect
i loved you never mean what you say
say anything to say anything to say anything to say
sorry. your smug conversation is one i carry still with me
even as the tactile memory of you burns
and my singed skin curls into the shape of an old friend
who never cared. i never remember to forget
they’ll always be there until they aren’t
leaving, grief, and i—i no longer wish for a happier end
i only wish there was a softer way to recover.