I am not accustomed to goodbyes.
The time when you took off, I was
shattered inside
You’d swear it was
The memories shed from the streams
Of my outpourings, I am scarred.
I try to shun
Though sometimes
I think, I do so
From shallow breaths
When I am in the gallows
(Is yours a kiss of life or death?)

When it should’ve been from contemplated
Or of whim
From the joyful rides
Of constant swings between my lows
and highs
I think you were fairly entertained

For my imagination
To ignite
I want you to know
I am no longer looking for your eyes
And poisoned lips
I now
Only wet the pages of my pads
With the grace of spits
And the tainted tint of optimism,
In time
I hope

it stings.