the beekeeper.

forget iii.

you've really done it this time.
it's been over two years now since we stopped talking and almost three since i've heard your voice
and yet still you whisper in my brain
like a pesky fly,
buzz, buzz, buzzing,
and hitting the window of my skull just trying to get back outside.

i never truly knew you,
but somehow i still craved you,
like how a certain meal can look so tasty on a menu
even if you have yet to try it.

oh,
i'm so bold to say i may have even loved you.

but love or starvation, one,
i want to swat it with a ruler
and scrape its remains into the trash can.
it's all rubbish anyways, isn't it?

"oh, anna, you'd be so much better off without me."

you're right.
i would be better off without you,
so why don't you pack up your things and get out of my house?
call the mover, box your double desktop and road sign you stole,
box your drone and your lighters,
take your cat with you,
and leave.
if you don't pay rent,
you don't get to stay,
and oh, honey, you haven't paid since 2014,
you're 3 years overdue,
and this landlord is putting their foot down.
you've been evicted,
you have 48 hours to leave,
anything you don't take with you will be burned.

oh, we both know that's a lie.
you'll root in my brain still,
and i'll leave your room untouched,
like i'm the parent to a deceased child.

it's ironic how you burned all of my things, though,
considering you bought me so many artificial gifts
so we could do stuff together,
but all i ever needed was to be by your side,
games and activities or not,
if it was with you i was happy.

but i was sickly, i couldn't do much,
so you brought me the presents in bed and a taped up dream,
a poster that said "you'll move, we'll marry, don't worry",
one that could be ripped down by your lean hands at any given moment,
which is exactly what happened.
the second the doctor cleared me,
the second he said, "yes, the patient is no longer a danger to themselves or society,
you may take them home",
you began to pick at the scotch tape until you could bury your finger underneath the strip
and you tore the entire poster down in one fatal swoop.

i've retold this story many times,
and i've retold it now to say:
it's been three years.
if i so much as utter your name in my sleep
or see your face in my dreams
or cling to your neck like a pathetic leech
or cry when i wake up because i can't smell you anymore
one more time
i think it's safe to assume i'll lose my mind,
which, thankfully, will mean i will lose you, too.
that's all i want.
that's all i need.
i need you gone.

you kicked me out,
you burned my things,
you bathed off my touch,
you threw away your sheets,
you erased me.

and i intend to do the same to you.