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Too Tired for Goodbyes - 9/8/2020

I kept your pictures in the box
Behind my shelves. I hid the little
Objects you gifted me before you 
Decided I proved useless. Your words
Still creep beside the holes in 
My conscience, never letting me forget.

You left. They forgot to tell me this.

It took until I felt your cold bed. Until
Your coffee mug grew covered in rust.
Until I no longer recognized the footsteps
Of the empty body shuffling in the 
Living room. It took until you were gone
To notice we were dying.

I pretended you held no residence in my 
Present. Since you were over, I could
Begin. But no. I lied. I lied too much.
I lied when you were still mine. The lying 
Might’ve been the thing to convince your 
Skin to decompose in the spot in which 
You promised you loved me.

Or you could’ve just grown too tired.  
Too tired to give Goodbyes. 

Lipogram Letter A – Emile Pinet

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