our tragedy.

a part of my soul reaches for yours,
and we are eternally
entwined.

in the silence, we exchange a bouquet
of I love yous
and we expect the pain to fade.

as soon as our hearts stitch together
you decide to rip out your sutures,
so now I’m left, open, empty.

desperately I try to save you
as my own saviors come running,
but you’re in my arms so they don’t bother trying.

you are the angel in this relationship.
aren’t you supposed to guard me?
salvation isn’t supposed to feel like dying.

you clipped your wings and asked me
to fly the both of us to safety,
but I am dust and you are wind–

you pull me along,
I go where you go, and darling,
you pull so roughly.

I still have a million unpresented declarations
of undying love and unending forgiveness.
they’re waiting for you in the back of my closet.

so we’ve reached a sort of tranquility,
and on the edge of this cliff
you start breathing

so I deem us saved and you agree,
as my feet slip on stones,
there you are reaching.

everything is okay, right?
the scars are all healing, the bleeding
has ceased and the bathroom no longer calls

your name from the pink hallways
we wandered as children.
the air is biting–

all the fight has left me.
I’m sorry but I wasn’t trained
for this kind of existence.

our story is unfinished but I haven’t
the strength to keep writing.

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