My fingers are missing
from the hand I used to hold,
there is no intertwine
as the inconsistency grows
through resentment
and memories
even though my memory
is shot from years of
doing drugs, I still recall
the blankness in her stare
when confronted with
the option of run or love

I thought it would be
a simple answer
after the dedication
of ten years, but it seems
I’m left in a one-sided affair:
no, it’s not fair, but nobody
said life would be that way,
so let the heaviness give way
to singularity and
personal growth
as I learn about my own
consequence,
about what it means to
finally let go