The Next Ex
This time,
I didn't have to wait as long,
didn't tremble as hard,
when I scooped up
more than a decade of us
looped and tied across paper,
incinerated our photos, our memories
to ashes, and spread them across
the magic and greenness of the past,
now, at the bottom of a silver bin,
sits the rest of my best friend
next the pile of him
hidden in the dead and dust
of the attic.
YOU ARE READING
Paint Us Gray: Part 2
Poetry(This is part 2; please read part 1 first!) Rejection. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Grief. Unfortunately, we've all had a swallow, some more than others, of this bitter brew. This is just a sliver of my chapter that is a part of this world's grand nar...
