I wrote a poem about you
yesterday. At least, I
think it was yesterday.
It could have been the day
before yesterday, or
the day before that.
I wouldn't know.
I stopped putting
the dates on all my poems
because they only reminded
me of how many days
I was wasting missing you.
Or maybe I just stopped
remembering what day
it was, so that I could imagine
that time wasn't carrying you
away and leaving me behind.
It's funny that I'm
suffering so much, when
I was the one who left you.
I will never make it off of this
sinking ship of ours.
I am drowning
in my own escape hatch.
