You look away from me and

I wonder if you can feel

the quake in my chest,

if you can hear

the roar of my heart.

You sit silently,

I feel each limb fall apart.

Yet I stand up, willing my organs

to continue functioning, my bones

to remain twined and carry me out.

I have no words left

perhaps my swollen tongue

may never utter another word again.

I gather up my limbs

and organs and bones

and hope and dignity and love

and drag them out the door.

I extended my world to you

shyly, heaving under its weight.

How casually you turned it down,

like extra butter on popcorn.

.

.

.

{only monsters do that;

now you know what I think of you}

I envy people who can talk of love

calmly, casually

like discussing a favorite app or brand,

as if it is something everyone has.

You said sorry without

understanding why,

that is when I should’ve known

I needed to let you go.

Sweetly, profusely

you always apologized.

His work is difficult, I’d say,

he is so sorry.

They shook their heads

and muttered, Again?

And then there were

too many missed dates

and forgotten promises.

I had to admit,

your apologies were a blanket

to smother my questions.

I had to admit

you never cared to know

what was wrong.

I had to admit

you never intended to stay.

Some nights I stay up wondering

what you are escaping or looking for

in the different beds you spend your time.

Are you trying to forget

the pain of a love unreturned

or are you searching for an old lover

in new faces every night?

Tell me, why wasn’t I enough?

I am not your vacation home,

your place away from reality.

I’m flesh, blood, feelings, emotions,

not a piece of realty.

Don’t ever forget that.

I see updates of you

in rooms I no longer recognize,

Insta stories with strangers

{new baes, I wonder?}

Even offline

you remain on my mind.

Maybe what hurts most

is how easy I was to get over.

How you have another

before the goodbye has begun.

Look what you made me do:

Tinder Reactivated

Others are gentle and listen

caring I have never known,

yet my heart races

only at thoughts of you.

I am trying to learn

how to mourn

the loss of something

that never really was.

I am insufferable to be around;

I get myself drunk on thoughts of you

and vomit out words of us

from an imagination overused.

I worry about unfilled cravings

uncorrected mistakes,

I worry about me, without you.

I have photos of you, of us

tucked away beneath jumbled socks.

There is one of you writing at that diner

we sat at for hours.

I cannot see your eyes but your smile,

I look at it when I’m blue.

Did you keep mine too?

Send me some, I want to see

what you captured of me.