A Litany of Things I am not Telling You, Out of Order

poem


A Litany of Things I am not Telling You, Out of Order
I have a bad feeling about all of this.
I have a question with a devastating hypothetical inside of it.
I once had a long list of questions for you, but I answered them myself.
I am the one you are losing, remember?
I am not a very good person, but I keep saying
I am trying.
I want to be let in, I said looking at your diaphragm.
I used to imagine: [            ]
I am making an artform of my own heartache as an enviable talent.
I am starting to adore my own unlikely need.
I am making something millable out of this, I am. 
I could mill a life so full, there's no room for you anymore.
I am milling around in the quiet space you left, feeling fragile and raw. 
I am starting to like it.
I used to be yours; now I am mine.
My dear, my darling, my dark cloud.
I have no rules or secrets anymore. 
I am sure you know by now:
you cannot possess a thunderstorm
or bring one back from the dead. 
I was your first full stop, wasn't I? Wasn't I?
I don't know anything for sure anymore. 
I don't want to haunt you anymore.
I never said I would keep searching until I found you.
I don't tell you what I'm thinking anymore. 
I keep ripping pages out of my notebook. 
I am not eating all my meals anymore.
I never said I would. 
Okay, I did.
I am making small but meaningful improvements.
I am starting not to love you anymore.
I still think of how beautiful you are, how
your face fits your face. Fits the palms of my hands.
I don't tell you everything I am thinking anymore. 
I am not a nostalgic person.
I try to focus on the things I dislike about you.
I love you less and less.
I am erasing you, slowly.
I used to miss you all the time.
I used to want to talk to you even when I was talking to you.
I finally realized it was the compass that was broken, it just
took a long time. 
I finally realized the map wasn't even right, and anyway
I can't read maps.
I touch my own sweet and nervous spine now.
I will still be the death of you.
I would do it all again, but I wish I wouldn't.
I don't feel like a ghost. I am not a ghost.
I know you'll be okay without me, but not the same. 
I am learning to forget as a self-defense mechanism.
I tore your pages out of my diary and stopped writing your name.
"Write down everything and of course you'll remember things
you wish you didn't," I read somewhere.
Even if you never read this, you'll still feel it.
I suspect you will grow to miss me terribly. 
When it's over (and it's almost over, I promise) just know
I meant everything I ever said to you, even if 
I wish I didn't.
I am taking nothing back, even if
I wish I could. 
I would do it all again, even if 
I wish I wouldn't.
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5 thoughts on “A Litany of Things I am not Telling You, Out of Order

  1. Pingback: Versatile Blogger Award Nomination – The Abyss Post

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