The day you gave the moon to someone else.

She said she loved me always, but always is always and always is valueless and I wish that I have never heard her speak a word.

And I guess, that love is a weightless thing, the way it dissolves away without any word of its renouncement.

It does not excuse itself and disappears without a trace, and when it’s gone.

Oh god. It’s gone and it has no intention of returning

This realization does not mean that I will rejoice in its absence. Instead a bitterness will develop in place of the love that I once held for you because you have replaced me.

While you were away, the walls spoke of the ways that you had slept with the shadows and most nights I would still hear their hushed whispers beckoning for you yet again. Like a patient canine awaiting its master to return home after they have been separated for so long, I waited for you. And once you have finally made your way back to me, I could already smell the existence of another in the way that you spoke.

I press my lips to your own, but I can feel that you no longer belong to me.

I can smell him on your skin.

Your breath.

Where have you gone, my love?

You have left me to wallow in the absent of you.

Why have you forsaken me?

You have started a war in me, the wires that have held my mind in perfected arrangement from the moment of my birth have began to snap because of your infidelity.

While you were promising me the stars, were you giving him the moon? I am fearful of what you have created my dear and I...

I am a butchered Frankenstein made solely of your many lies.

There are land mines where my sanity once remained and I am shoved off the thin line that carried it. Look at what you have done to me, when I had given you everything.

My thoughts have taken a life of its own and now there is a battle taking place within me.

Fragile and shattered shards of my heart are impaling my ribs and I demand that you place me together again, make me whole once more.

I care not of what materials you use, only of the thought of me being human again.

I watch you now.

How could your body produce sleep after what you have done to me? There is a repeated twitch in my fingers that demand of your attention, the final tug in my chest kicks away what pieces remain of my heart off to burn into the acid of my stomach.

Hatred and betrayal curls the tips of my fingers around the trigger of my beloved.

I am a resident in the city of broken promises, swallowed truths and false touches of love; population one.

Now let my loving barrel caress your sides and kiss you sweetly,

right between the eyes.


Guide that inspired this poem: