I sink my teeth into you, I don’t let go, jaw locked and tongue-tied. The taste of poison floods my mouth and for a moment I forget you. I have reached an end, weighed down and burdened, Atlas’d and begotten. There are no new avenues away from you and I lied a thousand times.

Zombified, I tear away at this aging flesh, tarnished by cold. Spread my hate inward, used and passed over, untried and ridiculed, compared to you behind eyelids, manufactured psychosis, sigh at the ceiling; a draft blows away the covers. I lie beneath your flower bed, entangled in roots planted by warm hands. The temperature freezes me in place, and I sigh a thousand times.

Hold me close, soothe me, humorless, suffocate me with details, break me, watch me relate. Listen, nod, and smile then ignore my tears, shuffled and disregarded, often the afterthought. Burned on a pyre you say you love me and I hate myself and cry a thousand times.

My mouth is full and I want to choke, spit my hate in the face of all who are happy. Talk to someone who doesn’t want to hear, and cry in the lap of a stranger, walk in the rain, smash the wall and scream at the people, collapse on the stage, shudder at applause, cut myself on a rose and die in a daze, beneath you I lay, still rotting away, warmed by the echoes of your dancing feet, shedding tears, feeding the earth, flowers grow in your garden, and I die a thousand times.

Blistered and born of these goodbyes. Try as I might, you held the key, threw it away, chose that life, and left me here to compare, lost in despair, brittle and agonized, self-scrutinized and segregated. I want to scream and break things, twist, bite, and shake everything in between. Burdened by the weight of this endless goodbye.
If it can’t work with you, then it can’t work with anyone, even if I try a thousand times.

Varniverus Gwyndledore