When you go, I stay gone

I didn’t have the schematics for your leaving.

There was no plan. I searched for diagrams

in every circuit of sky, all the crumbs of stars.

As if your Earth would ever aid me. I slip through

space, with no one to consider my reality.

I want to know how I exist for you. I never understood

people selling their souls on TVs until now.

I don’t want to recover. I’m sorry

for penning you over again. All I know is to write

myself out of eclipsing: a servant to your sound, my oily sirens.

Most nights I cry for your second absence,

all the moments I’ll have to unstring myself from.

I practice speaking in future tense, rehearse

all the days I will be remaking.