i wish that i were more than this.
but i know that my body is holding
nothing more inside than
radio static and empty syllables.
and somewhere,
between layers of skin and flesh,
i am harboring the cold bitterness
of leftover farewells.
i know it the way that a bird
knows when to leave its home
to fly.
i will stretch my wings and
fly from myself.
you flew from me to some warmer place.
your hands did not
even shake,
knowing what part of me you'd take
with you.
between cigarette-stale sheets
full of dying warmth
and saltwater dried in caked lakes
and fresh red spatter,
"you were my favorite goodbye."
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