Dear past life
(a poem)
I think the sun burned
Too much
When you laid hands
On my soul.
He spit balls of fire
And poured a heat of grief,
Over us.
But you and I,
Lasted a long while,
Making potions and
Blood swears
And exchanging life for death
On the basement couch.
The sun separated us by
Its scorching rays
And I always thought
I would come back
When the moon rose,
But when it finally did,
I stayed gone
And we won’t ever meet again
Because this time
I chose a life
Where you do not exist.
Enjoyed the ride. Visually transported me to the couch in the basement where I only saw you and a mirror on the wall.. Smoke hazed.
leaving people (actual others, or only other versions of ourself) can feel so final and so much like literal death kind of mourning/loss. i love how you captured that and the temporary intensity of the stages before the end.