When I leave,
cut me out of our
polaroids taped
on your bedroom walls;
let the vowels in
‘i love you’ fade,
like the last bits
of my scent left
on the pillows we shared,
let yourself forget
the words to the verses
to the songs
we said
were ours.

When I leave,
don’t say my name
like a post-nightmare
prayer
or re-read the poems
I wrote for you when
we were out at the sea
or looking at the stars
from my favorite spot.

When I leave, darling,
please remember
that I am sorry that
you fell in love
with someone
who left
after
she promised
she
would not.

I am sorry
that you fell in love
with someone
who needs to leave
before
she gets left behind.

I am sorry, darling
that
you fell in love
with someone
like
me.