My love,

you’re finally gone,

slipped through my fingers

like the winds of love so tediously sent in your direction.

The burning stake held against my heart,

digging deeper with every stroke

glistens with the remains of what we were

engraved with useless words you’ll never read.

My love,

if I could, I’d make you stay.

My love,

if I could, I’d make you change your mind.

Yet, I am not one to grovel,

although I may have weeks ago.

Now, I am at the mercy of the inevitable,

this mark you’ve made on my skin: permanent.

However, against all belief,

I will never remove it.

I will press it further in, right until the pain has dissipated

and I’m left with the remains of your presence..

My love,

if you’ll have me again, take me.

My love,

if you’ll change your mind, I’m here.

They never seem to last,

and I’d set my coffin from the beginning.

You’ve only delivered the final blow,

leaving me in pieces.

Baby, am I allowed to mourn?

Am I allowed to wander?

Wander back into these pages of my journal and reminisce?

May I think about you?

May I imagine you besides me?

Could I remember touching you?

Could I remember loving you?

I don’t, can’t, won’t forget this

solid, blinding pain that’s reduced to numbness.

I’d built my own grave.

I’d invited the Reaper into my soul for the price of your lips,

your hands,

your smile.

Open the book. It’s all written there

in pencil. Just like you.

Am I allowed to remember?

Mon chéri, will you think about me?

Will you cry with regret or rejoice?

Which man will you be

The one you are? Or the one I knew?

These realities are deceitful.

Where is the remainder of my story?

Divided away from yours?

Splatters of ink on the rest of the manuscript leak all the way through.

These are flimsy papers.

They crinkle under my fingers.

They ask me to engrave your name

in all the languages you’ve grown to know.

The Mother language is resisting me,

because it’s Holy and

the only thing about me that is Holy

is my love for you.

Tell me,

Do you remember my love?

Will you remember it tomorrow?

Will you miss it next year?

Goodbyes are stabbing.

Swords are piercing my heart, written under your name,

classified as the nail on the coffin.

Baby, will you mourn us?

Am I a stepping stone to you?

Baby, I’ll miss you.

I couldn’t despise you.

Yet, there is hatred in my heart.

I asked God to never take you away from me.

I sinned and still prayed for you.

Baby, I tried to be enough.

Help me find the man of my dreams?

Well, my love, I’ve just lost him.