please

it’s a soft morning –

the type I might enjoy in bed

snuggled in a cavern of blankets

with your body warm against mine –

but it’s harsh today,

the sharp lines of your chin,

a knife slicing my heart into two.

I can already see the decision

painting the corners of your eyes

with blue, desperately looking at me –

don’t make this harder than it is,

your twitching hands say –

even when I reach out to you,

I know it is useless,

and you won’t hear my pleading words.

So in this soft morning light –

a lullaby of shattering hearts –

my hand is cold in the frosty air.

you look sadly at me

and then disappear like a ghost

into empty air,

as if you were never here

(but I guess that’s what you always wanted)

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