i hate this
tumult of emotion
this primordial cordial of something and maybe and
never and could be.
it is dark 
chocolate
bittersweet and sour as it pools on my tongue and slithers down down into my throat and lodges there
solidified into a churning mass of
it will never be the same and regret and guilty
relief.
A single loss of
gilt jewel 
and a single loose word spilled 
from a mouth and
a cog is thrown 
out of orbit and into
the dissonance that it has caused.
a decision made
logically but painfully
with a wound that thuds slowly, knock knock knock
against my chest
not acute, no
more like 
a bruise 
a reminder that i am not as
mournful as i
should be
and that change, that hated, cursed change, 
has occurred.