Because I am trapped in my own cells,
Blistered by the sun
Of your kindle presence.
Yes, I blame you.
I blame you
For the roaches in my car
And that time you made me bleed into my wine.
I blame you for all the toast you burnt
And the way you watch sunsets with
Such impatience.
If you asked,
I wouldn’t go back with you.
My heart is already capable of
Telling such tremendous tales.
I need none of yours.
Get – be gone.
Once a lover, but forever a wanderer.