break up never make up

the aching aftermath of our breakup is not these random tears that help me learn to lose you, but this final letter you sent. silly words cheapening our experience, desperate for a memory that will reverse the painful end. these words sit crumpled like wayward insect legs in the corner, pieces of something long dead. it’s over and these skeletons reach to revisit moments that no longer exist. your image of me is delusion now, and the pedestal i placed you on is illusion always. 

you do the killing my love

i’ll do the digging my love

everybody else can tell:

we’re a match that’s made in hell

i’m fire.

you’re magic.

we might have lost some battles

bruised and torn and battered

but we’re gonna fight until we win

because love is war…

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