I'm exhausted. I don't want this.
You are gone from my life,
and I'm not as delusional
as I once was. But every time
I think about you, or have
something or someone that reminds
me of you, I feel like... well, I feel
like I have absolutely lost my mind
this time. My mental health gets
real bad thinking about you.
I am crossing my own boundary
when I start talking and thinking
about you. It's a bad time, and
a bad thing. And yet, I feel like
I'm out of options and cards to
play.
We were never going to be
healthy and no amount of signs
and wonders is going to change
that.
I am wounded, and this has
left a nasty scar. Maybe it's
about making peace with the
fact that every time I look at
that scar, I am going to be reminded
of you. After all, I chose to follow desire,
and destiny followed soon after.
YOU ARE READING
THE ARSONIST
شِعر"You set my world on fire, but at what cost?" In THE ARSONIST, this prose-poetry chapbook explores third degree burns, stone faced lovers, and learning to love the blackened trees. New poems released every Thursday at 9PM MST/11PM EST.
