after a hundred hit and misses
“the end” was finally written down.
i still search for you in my sleep
but you’re lost,
and don’t want to be found.
i know one day we will find each other again
probably in heaven.
the gates will open easily for us
rewarded for surviving living hell.
but it won’t feel like home to us
because in heaven,
i don’t think you can yell.

our souls will probably wind up in the same cemetery.
two plots away.
too far to roll in my grave and see you.
just barely out of touch.
close,
but never quite close enough.

my sister wrote a poem about destruction.
she said she never drank alcohol or took pills to get over the loss.
but i did.
i washed down a bottle that rattles with a bottle of *****.
sometimes i added a sleep aid.
there were a few mornings when i thought i woke up in hell.
i did.
but i wasn’t dead.
the world didn’t allow that. it knew i had to stick around, had too much to do.
that didn’t stop the hospitalization.
didn’t stop my family from taking the locks off my doors.
that’s how i know we were different.
i had a love i would’ve died for.

but i don’t want to die anymore.

“life isn’t fair”
is what they keep telling me.
and they’re right.
it’s a cruel joke.
life gave you to me a thousand times
with every intention of ripping you away.
i kept trying to stitch us together,
make us one.
“no one can take you now.”

but the stitches ripped out
causing a wound that required surgery

no wonder i’m still hurting

broken glass has nothing on you.
it is dull in comparison.
you have to push it to bring the blood
while one memory of you brings a flood.

-my heart started bleeding before you even left.

and in thirty years,
if we decide that hating each other is not worth it anymore
and out of control.
i will be here
alone.
in the bed we used to call home.

-kvp