let go.

you have been mine
for so long
what will i do without you?
i don’t want you to be
alone
in those last moments
afraid of the dark.
my hands on your face
my voice in your ear
i love you
now just let go.

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only.

here are the empty chambers
of my heart.
she filled them up
as children do
and then what would be
became what might have been
and now i’ve nothing.
the empty is worse
for having known the depth
and breadth
of fullness.
of being in love for the very first time.

i had not known heartbreak
until she left me.
not the first death–
the only.

half-life.

throughout the countless lives
i have lived
i’ve looked for you
and who i know you to be.
for i know who i am not.
and the women i’ve been
deserve the pain they’ve reaped
for they have sown
nothing but chaos
and regret.
i am comfortable here
in this half-light
of a dying sun
watching a world i despise
eat itself.
i miss you today
and what we could have been
but tomorrow will come
and interminable life will erase
the ache.
in the end there is no us
only silence.

hollow.

if you wanted me to leave
carved out
hollow inside
you have won.
if you wanted me to fade out to echo
i was almost there
until i found myself again.

i don’t know what you wanted
but it wasn’t me.

dead planets.

don’t lie to me again.
please.
i can’t fucking take it.
finally i have excised the hope:
ripped it out by the root
burned it all down
and salted the earth.
nothing will ever grow here again.
the things that come after
are just echoes
ghosts of an uncharted timeline
dead planets in a universe unexplored.
and i am all burned out.

unlearn.

i’m here
staring down your indifference
pretending i don’t care
until i don’t.
the things that hurt yesterday
don’t hurt quite as much today
and the bleeding has stopped.
it was self-inflicted.

tired of being myself tonight
and if i could,
i’d take it all back:
every word
every moment wasted on
this emptiness.
if we could start again,
i think i would leave all your lessons behind.
a door unopened.
a timeline erased.

it’s time to unlearn

sol

where is my fire?
i used to burn like a fission reactor
taking atoms apart with
my anger
and my desire.
my passion
consuming me from within
under my skin
heat radiating out
all solar flares
and coronal mass ejections.

and now i have gone dark.
no supernovae
no violent eruptions
no annihilation of worlds–
just collapse
and periodic bursts of resignation.
i have condensed and consolidated.
diminished.
i am a quietly dying sun
once brilliant
now busily contracting
folding in upon herself
denying complexity.

although my gravity exceeds
expectations
although my light still shines weakly
in a vast, empty universe,
i recognize the futility in me
the toxicity of appeasement
the terminal honesty
and obsessive
mendacity of compromise.

an unremarkable star
transformed by time and space
into something colder and sadder
and less significant
than ever imagined.