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.

01/24/2011

Posted on 01/25/2011
Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack