Existential Renaissance

You have lied to me, used me, forsaken me, took me, had me, threw me away. I believed you, loved you, needed you, came to you, gave you — everything, forgave you –everything. I fought for you, I called you, I wrote you, I flew across the world to you, my tears frozen from the jet engines, my skin alabaster white against the snake of the blacktop, twisting around my neck, choking me, killing me, you abandoned me, and now you go another route, another tack inside my flesh, as if I can take another thing from you, my broken back! My back is broken, the stripes of bloody hopes and dreams torn from the whip, you hit me with– the distance, you hit me with Her, you hit me with It.

I barely know you’re alive, I really have very little proof you exist excepting for the dreams that come, and of course now the ones that never will. I know you from your absence, I know you from your silence, I know you from the hole you hollowed out inside my heart, that empty space belongs to you, you have the thing that is unfilled inside me, the nothingness is yours and always will be, the thing that you can have is the thing that is not there, you don’t believe, it is not there, it is void and black, you do not fight, it is not there, it is vacant, it is gone, you neglect me, don’t feed me, I waste away, my love dies on the vine, dries up to dust, blows away in arid winds, I am. not. there. If you are tired, sit down where I once was. Soothe yourself. I am not there.

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