I remember following you to the river in December, and the hospital, and watching you suffer through the night. I left you for two days, but knew the moment you’d come back, we’d make it official.
You’d dream about our reckless impulsivity.
I’d keep you warm
While we romanced a menagerie of guests with food and music, art, and psychology.
I’d sit by your bed, quiet your nerves, and lull you and your company to sleep.
We’ve had some disagreements, haven’t we?
But you’ve learned to laugh about them.
Still, it’s time we realize how mundane we’ve become.
When you look at me, I can see your uncertainty.
And I’ve gotten clingy and costly.
I’ve shut you down during pretty intimate moments.
And all jokes aside, you’ve really let yourself go.
So I’m leaving you this December
To the static in your brain
And the opportunity to
Love a real person
More than my taste
Across your lips
And the deep burn in your stomach.
I’m leaving you to an empty glass
It’s been fun but
I’m leaving because
That’s all you know
And you’d never