Member-only story
Why You Left
A Poem
salvaging isn’t my style,
and it’s not yours either.
maybe we were born to break —
pieces of a whole crushed in a fist —
and you were the first survivor,
crawling out of the mess you made.
we were the mess — all jagged edges —
and I thought I’d like to be broken
if it meant hanging onto you a bit more.
these pieces don’t match us,
not in the way we used to be,
so perhaps it’s time to reshape ourselves
in the hope of living without each other.
why you departed on a rainy Sunday,
right before another work week,
I’ll never know, not really.
but I knew it was time for an ending,
as all these things must come to an end,
because you no longer looked at me
as if I were the world you revolved around.
but words are cheaper than wine —
so I take to my pages and bleed
while I wonder where you are
in this great wide sphere
where it’s not “us against the world.”
now it’s just you and me, apart,
never to be whole together again.
