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I hate your leaving footprints in the snow.

 

*I think I may have expanded this into a longer poem at some point, but I don’t know for sure. If I come across it, I will post and link hopefully.

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It

I think it happened yesterday
or the day before,
whatever “it” was.
I’ve been sifting thru the past,
posts and messages and data.
Still no closer to figuring it out.
Today more than ever I want to know,
but Easter doesn’t seem like the right day
to ask why you began to shut me out.
Whatever “it” was,
it’s why you stopped trusting me with your heart.
You never needed my secrets,
only my love.
For me it was the opposite.
How fucked up is that?

Before April

The end of March bothers me.
Something happened
and I can’t remember.
Five years ago
and we never recovered.
Three years after,
we began a conversation.
Then the world got in the way
and I never found out
how March ended.
Almost two years now
that we’ve been apart.
Sometimes I think of asking you
what happened that March.
I never ask though
because I’m afraid of how much it’ll hurt.
But if I never ask
maybe this month will never be over.
Standing still,
with a double-edged blade in hand.