and I know, I know if I ever saw you again my chest would crack open so slow, like the first thaw of spring snow the water’s so loyal it keeps repeating everything that left me is still leaving. and I know, I know if I let myself believe you didn’t mean to go I’ll stay waiting at the window til my bones turn yellow and the world moves on without me. it’s humiliating, really and I know, I know the sky won’t split itself for us nothing divine will intervene grief is just a quiet animal that sleeps in the sheets it doesn’t stalk you in quiet rooms I walk the same three streets like I’m tracing a sigil trying to summon you back from a life that probably fits you better but it isn’t this one it isn’t this one and I know I know. I keep thinking if I were quieter if I were gentler if I was the water instead of the fire maybe you would’ve stayed long enough to see me soften long enough to see I was trying and I know, I know your absence wasn’t personal it just landed that way like snow on a grave the kind of silence that scrapes the ribs clean and I know I know I’ve been kinder, lately like a dog that still believes I can’t stop following you you could slam the door closed a thousand times and I’d still sit on the porch until noon I hate how hope behaves like it’s loyal and I know I know you don’t think about me not like this but I can’t stop waiting for a door that doesn’t open. and I know I know I’m learning to let go the way winter lets go of branches slow reluctant splinter by splinter But I’m not going to. I will do whatever I want.
