you're scrawled in the faint wood,
aren't you? i don't smell
your pine and heather,

an evergreen finality—
not evergreen, anymore.

Some dark stories never show the ending.

i should have read the contract
before dating you
before loving you
before you
if i had read your terms and conditions
          -*** whenever i need it, your feelings aside
         - put up with my delicate ego, but allow me to slowly shatter
                    every ounce of your self-worth
          -you must not say or do anything more intelligent than I or
                    you have given grounds to publicly humiliate you
          -do not touch my fragile masculinity
          -i am permitted to treat you as inferior to myself

if i had read the fine print
then maybe i wouldn’t have signed four years of my life away

i prematurely miss you,
dreading the day i no longer know you,
the day your heart no longer beats for me,
the day you no longer kiss my forehead
and twirl my hair around your finger
absentmindedly.
i dread the day you no longer tell me
“i love you”
at least 10 times a day,
(just in case i forget)
the day you no longer write poetry
inspired by me,
the day you no longer want to grow up and start a life in the city together,
grow old and live out one life together.
i dread the absence
of my name in your mouth,
your cologne in my sheets,
my clothes on your floor.
i dread the day
i no longer know you.
-a.c.b