It's a lot of work
Having to drag myself up here
Before slicing you off of me,
Piece by piece,
Tossing the already-rotting morsels
To the raptors
Lurking from the crags,
Anticipating
With rapt hunger.

Those poor birds
Having to settle for gristle,
Already spoiled by rancor and impermanence,
I hope they pardon me
Like how I'm starting to forgive you --
With resignation
Accepting
That it was all you had to offer
In your desolation and brokenness.
And maybe I should have known better
That you didn't know better
Than to sear your conscience,
That betrayal was all you knew.

The trek back down
Ought to be easy.
How can it not be
When I am divested
Of these memories staining me --
Of us flashing sickly sweet grins at each other
Breathing each other in
Serenaded by the music of our souls,
Each asomatous snapshot
Titanic in weight.

I'm surprised
The winds haven't carried me off by now.