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,

I cannot feel.