Friday, November 6, 2015

Wolves



I am down to looking at your profile every other day on a good week,
Maybe once daily in a bad one
(But it’s probably more)
In the moments I miss you most,
I hope for your safe passage to every iteration of who you will become
In the moments I hate you most for leaving me,
I choose to simply understand why

I have bought into the lie
Signed and sealed
The nothing lie, the one sold to women like me by men like him
I am nothing
Nothing I do matters
There is nothing that could be better for me than him
(When I know the best is always you)

The swamp is dry and cool and I lay on rotted moss,
Grabbing at it until it becomes dust, a handshake with the inevitable,
Waiting for the river to rise,
So that the rocks in my pocket are claimed by the wolf again
Where freedom might be... a darkness where your face,
Mouth, and embrace can’t be remembered.

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