i should know by now
that the ones
who fall fast and hard
are the ones who
leave you quickly and despondent;
at first you glow as bright at the sun
and [too] soon you
are not even a part of his universe.
when i told him
i felt his love
i meant it.
i could feel the warmth in my heart and
the vibrations of
his tenderness.
and then i
saw it drain
from him,
methodically and absolutely,
until I was frantically
searching for a little
beam of luminescence where a floodlight
once existed-
until the only response to
"do you even care about me?"
is a closed door,
and a collection of all of my things in
a cardboard box.
he can add
my name
to the list of things resents-
just file me next to
his family /and his exwife /and his job /his country / christmas trees/ chicken thighs/ tipping/ new orleans/ throwing caution to the wind/ taking chances/ making changes/ being loved
When asked to choose happiness or
misery he chose the blackness;
and when asked to be
with me or alone
he said bleak solitude.
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