It’s hard when I feel like I want to rip out my own throat, let The blood gush and mix With the salt. When my mind cracks and I sob, Or when I am filled with A rush of anger, fury, fiery bitterness At you and this and every ******* thing.
It’s hard when I sleep in the bed Where you slept. When I lie on the sofa, ‘Red Couch’ where we once lay: That other girl and you, together.
(the hardest word is never)
It’s hard when I look around at my life And wonder at what I am now. Skimming the surface, Treading this swampy water. Always tired, Though I never drown.
And it’s hard when I feel nothing. When I cannot remember your touch, When memories Are just a film I watch.
(I think we died in that ******* airport eight months ago.)
Because after near two years of something so **** real, When it is over,