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A Guide to Losing It; Bitterly
Illyria, AtS
(a poem) (sort of)

It's not fair

how much I like you.

You found me


and loved me with


care that broke me.

You snuck into

my heart filled with something

I can't call love.

I sacrificed

the glue of my self

so you could fit in the spaces.


you look at me and I

worry that no one will ever know me

like you do. Other

times, I miss

your glances and I worry

you never knew me at all.

Your birthday gift sits

in a bottom drawer. I left it

with the words I wanted you

to read.

My hands feel empty

and restless. I can't help but remember

the last time I saw you when

you wouldn't let me sleep

on your shoulder.

I plan ways to

thank you.

I refuse to send you

the messages I write.

I check often to see when you are coming

home. To me

it cannot be too soon.

We spoke only

once since you left. I hated you


I felt it;

something shattered.

I can't wait

to hear your voice. Tell me


how it is fair

that by a living ghost


I am haunted.



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