ever since i left
i've been spending time with my anger
discussing perspectives and points of views
burnt the bridge, called it even, clenched my fists,
"wonder if anger is one of those things love gives birth to"
– my dear, what isn't born out of love quickly dies of thirst

i've been spending time with my sadness
weighting words and keeping scores
poking at the bruises, blowing candles on fake birthday cakes
"am i really sad or is it just disappointment?"
– it might as well be anger, it might as well be nothing

i've been spending time laughing
at the joke that always lands, getting the punch line right,
it's satire. cynicism is a soft form of denial
"when did your smile start to look like a smirk?"
– i love the irony that rests on the most painful things

i've been spending time in solitude
keeping my secrets to myself
collecting dust under my fingernails
"only i know how my misery carries me"
– and for the longest you've carried it
the longest it has taken me

i've been spending time unfolding
transforming, collecting, lamenting
waiting on the door to open, a window shutters
"how deep is deep enough to bury hope?"
– carve the stone and despair knows its home

i’ve been driving away, somewhere
calling out anger by what it is: grief
these funny little things: sadness and
its inadequacy, modern policies
"where are we going?"
– there is an ache in you
put there by the ache in me

i don’t really know where i’m going
i just know that i’m heading
from the death things piled up behind me