It was already gone

Before they took away our plates

Before I lingered in the doorway

So I’ll explain myself:

It wasn’t you who turned away,

The shaking body sobs were when I said goodbye,

And I’m sorry.

A drunken excuse for sadness,

It was you in those tears,

And I gave them back before you could take them.

A regurgitation of the alms I think are deserving,

Because everything I do is mechanical,

And it makes me fucking sick

To ignore my modesty

And be an honest lover,

Giving every last drop

Because I’m tired of being discarded

Without a say

And living as the victim of a blur

Of misinterpretations, that follows me in every pile of rubble

In small pieces of the self I destroyed

A display of dramatics

So that you miss the point

And you won’t be tempted

To try and follow me,

Carrying particles that don’t fit back into place.