And then my stomach knots
like an insane carnival ride
to the moon,
and I bite my lip
to keep the pain
from rolling down my face
because these savage sentences
keep stabbing me in the back.
I want you to bury
these letters
in the quicksand we made
so that I can forget
you ever loved me
but I keep picturing
your face instead.
You run-walk
into the darkness
but I still see that light
in the black sea of regret
and we both cling to the ship
as if it weren’t already sinking.
The waves drown us
only to tease with release,
our labored lungs
gasping for something real
to save us.
And you left me alone
to face a world
I wasn’t ready to face alone
and then you blamed me
for fighting,
for living without you
when that was the only option
you left.
So these words don’t matter
to you
or these readers
who say they understand
this agony
because they only
ever mattered
to me
but what is the point
of matter
if you’re alone
in an ocean
and trapped
on the wrong boat?


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