and this grief is an ocean
please, don't fight. just listen. you owe it to me.
when i breathe, i deflate.
without you here, i don't know when to sleep, or wake up. i do little of either.
but don't follow me. don't look back, and don't say i didn't try.
for all our unfinished games, our furrowed brows and missing socks: don't miss me, don't miss me.
for every single drink you drank, i counted;, and for all the food i watched you refuse: don't say i don't eat enough. i can, and, i might.
and for every tremor in our dappled universe: why did we move the way we moved? together, and now apart? for every quake: what gave me pause, or made my throat thick with fear?
i'll tell you now. in this infinitely late hour, finally, if infinitesimally, intrepid. i don't miss you at all.
(and when i say dappled, i meant it all: the tongue, the shoulders, the shoes, the mind.)
i miss myself,
before i was yours.