This is the last poem I write about you
So I suggest you read it until you find it hard to breathe.

This is the last poem I write for you
in hopes that you'll read and use it to find your way back to me.

This is the last mark I make on a clean white page that on the other side
reads your name.

There is a photo of you in the back of this notebook that I haven't looked at in a month.

There is a burning in my stomach and it's leading me to believe that I am eating me alive.

Every word I've said alone in the dark
was uttered in hopes that you would somehow hear me.

It's over and I'm out.
This is the last time.
This is no longer for you.
You are no longer my muse.
(b.r.o.)