Light Bulbs & Megaphones & Disposable Poems

Are you scared?

You asked.

No, I’m ready.

I answered.

You say,

That happened really fast.

And that’s when I get it,

All over again.

This past year and a month, and change

Was the longest of my life

But to you,

It was quick.

Just a flash in the pan.

Just another year.

Just another fucking year.

I stopped talking to you

Some months ago

Sick of myself

The pathetic mess I had become.

How many unanswered emails and texts

Did I send you?

Did you hoard them,

Like you do,

Or delete them

Upon receipt?

These poems used to go out into the world

Under a pseudonym

To protect the guilty

For some reason.

I think I’m done being quiet now.

And I’m definitely done

Talking to you.

Now, I take the mic

Read my poems to you

For the last time

And shred them into scraps.

A murder of words

Death to the fragile,

The broken,

Whatever the hell I thought we had.

The pieces fall to my feet.

I throw them into the swinging lid

Of a stainless steel trash can.

Take out my pretty blue notebook

And start over

On a new page.