misguided

leaving grief. and i—i now remember why

i should never have allowed anyone

to get under my buckling skin

for fine friends are only fine, friends until

they know the perfect way to damage

the stillborn remnants of what you hold on to

them, without patience, distraught,

you; promises of finding someone better

overhearing a devotion that cannot possibly be true

only useful in the event of an epiphanic letdown

i love you but why have i loved you

did i love you because i knew it was nothing to be proud of

or worse, something for a reckless hobby

i love you because you were kind for five seconds

and it was only fair to bleed when it should not be enough

did you not love me because i wasn’t enough

or because you knew i was nothing to be proud of?

from knowing too much, trusting too well

follies and fey melodies for a final disconnect

i loved you never mean what you say

say anything to say anything to say anything to say

sorry. your smug conversation is one i carry still with me

even as the tactile memory of you burns

and my singed skin curls into the shape of an old friend

who never cared. i never remember to forget

they’ll always be there until they aren’t

leaving, grief, and i—i no longer wish for a happier end

i only wish there was a softer way to recover.